


Warrior

by dragonhunter88



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, F/M, Family Loss, Flashbacks, Humor, Original Character(s), Romance, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-03 18:20:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 81
Words: 345,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13346856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonhunter88/pseuds/dragonhunter88
Summary: A broken man, a shattered sword. Everything Aedan thought he knew is tested, broken, and reforged within the fires of war. A retelling of the Origins plotline parallel to the story of Aedan's past.





	1. Calm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Started this about six years ago and finished this on FF about a year back. Finally finished combing through and doing some cleanup/spell checking, and I figured I'd post it here. The first couple of chapters are a little rough and I tried to do minimal edits to improve them, but there's only so much you can polish a turd. It gets better though, so hopefully somebody manages to stick it out and enjoys this. 
> 
> Just a couple of notes on organization: 
> 
> This piece is split into several different parts, one for each of the various arcs of the game (Origin+Ostagar, Circle Tower, Redcliffe, etc), and each of the chapters will have the appropriate label, and the last chapter in the part will state the end.
> 
> There's a bunch of flashbacks, and you can usually tell due to the large italic block. The first few chapters, admittedly, I just wanted to show some random moments, but eventually it morphed into a parallel story of Aedan's past. Think Arrow on CW.

* * *

  **Part 1: Heroes**

* * *

 One step.

It took all Aedan had for that.

As he took that one step, his body shook in pain. 'Broken' did not describe it. All his shattered ribs ached. Too much blood seeped out of his battered armor.

His fellow warden, bloodied and barely conscious, crawled on the floor. His hand outstretched as he silently screamed 'No'.

None of that mattered. Aedan just had to finish this. Then he could go home.

One deep breath.

Warm blood swirled in his mouth. Swallowing shot spasms of pain through his throat, hoarse from shouting orders. But Aedan savored this one serene moment before the end of it all. Even though his ears rang from the screams and clashing of steel, even though his body screamed for him to lay down, even though his world had gone to chaos, for once his head felt clear.

The crippled archdemon roared from the floor. The monster could only sit and watch Aedan's approach, for it's wings had been torn apart, and it's body filled with swords and arrows. The blast of it's roar threw bloodied corpses clear off the tower. The wind rushed against Aedan, and he leaned on his sword to withstand it's force.

Aedan's shield clattered on the ground. He raised his sword with both hands. The glint of it's point shone above the archdemon's head.

One thrust.

* * *

 

"Nan, can I have some more meat?" Aedan sputtered through a stuffed mouth. Gregory, his trusty Marbari hound, made a similar request, panting at the plate of meat Nan had.

"Maker," laughed Nan, "how do you put away all that food?" Nan whipped her wooden spoon at Aedan's elbows; when not in front of others, the young man tended to forget some manners, including not leaning on the table whilst eating. Aedan scowled and sat up straighter and lifted his arms off the wooden surface.

"Dunno, I'm a growing man I guess. Had a good training session today." Aedan took another bowl of stew. He inhaled the familiar hearty vapors as he brought the spoon to his mouth and smiled at the nostalgic smell.

"To me you're still that little boy running through the courtyard, crying over a boo boo," chuckled Nan.

"I'm plenty man enough now. That Duncan came by and even said I'd be a great Grey Warden."

"A man who can't even cook his own meals? Or wash his own stuff? Perhaps I should let this man take care of himself?"

"Sorry sorry sorry please keep feeding me," laughed Aedan, whilst Nan chuckled alongside him. She took one of Aedan's plates from him and washed it in the sink. A layer of bubbles began to rise and her engulfed her wrinkled hands.

"But did Duncan really say that?" The dishes clattered as Nan stacked them up one by one. The grand dinner between Teyrn Bryce Cousland, his good friend Arl Howe, and one of the famous Grey Warden's, Duncan, had an equal and opposite grand cleanup. While the nobles stood outside in the courtyard wining and dining, the

"Yes, but Father refused to let him even consider it," said Aedan.

Despite her back being turned on Aedan, Nan still conversed whilst cleaning."Well, being a Grey Warden is dangerous."

"But I'd get to be a hero! Save damsels, fight evil, defeat the archdemon." Aedan's fork swished through the air as he fought off imaginary darkspawn. His calloused hands spun the fork between his fingers, until he made one final thrust into his chicken.

"Like you'd ever be marching on an archdemon. It takes a good half hour to get you out of bed."

"Because it's the same thing over and over! Mother has some fancy friend over, Father and Brother are out meeting the nobles or hunting, and I'm just...here. Is that all life is for me? Second son of a noble, grow old, get fat, listen to boring politicians yammer on?" Aedan leaned back in his chair and sighed.

"Aren't you the one who's good with the politicians?" asked Nan as she took Aedan's last plate.

"That doesn't mean I have to like it."

Silence filled the room as Nan continued scrubbing the dishes. She glanced over at Aedan. His brow was furrowed deep. His eyes were elsewhere, yet still focused on the flickering flame of the candle. She couldn't decide if it was serenity or discontent.

For a noble, he certainly did not act like one. He wore baggy loose clothing around the castle, and would have none of the fine Orlesian silks that his sister-in-law Oriana would try and put on him. The servants and him had an amicable relationship- he treated them like a second family: they played sports, told jokes, and occasionally even ate together. Perhaps it was because recent years had forced Aedan to remain within the castle confines more and more. His father, away on business, and his brother, preparing to take the Teyrn's seat, were seen rarely.

The youngest Cousland, despite what Nan teased, was growing into a fine man. Twenty-four years old with a faint stubble covering his face, his brown eyes were known for being equally bright and at other times harsh and piercing. She tousled his short black hair and smiled. Despite how much older he looked, he really was to her the same little boy, gleaming with hope.

Nan said to him, "You say all that- but the thing is Aedan, the choice is yours. You could walk out of the castle, go become an adventurer, pillager of villages, hero of cities, or just a wandering vagabond, but every morning you wake up and choose to stay here, because you love this place and love your family. You've had your fair share of trouble, and you know that this is where you belong."

Nan stacked the dishes, stretched her arms and yawned. Before she left, she pinched Aedan's cheek and chuckled, "Why do you think I'm still here? The pay?"

* * *

 

_"Father, why can't I come on the hunt?" yawned the seven year old boy in his pajamas. Aedan rubbed his eyes, leaning on his practice sword to keep his tired body up._

_The youngest Cousland had always been a rambunctious child: always dreaming up adventures and playing hero in the castle. However, Aedan could never quite defeat the insurmountable monster known as the early morning. The young child loved to sleep, even sneaking off during lessons to nap._

_"Oh, pup, you know why," said Bryce Cousland, tousling his son's bed-head._

_"But Fergus gets to go," whined Aedan, rubbing his eyes again. Indeed, Fergus, Aedan's elder by eight years, had mounted his own horse. From a distance Aedan always had to watch his brother recieve swordsman lessons and horse riding training. Fergus stuck his tongue out at his brother, out of sight from their father._

_Today Arl Howe joined the hunt. He and Bryce shared a long friendship. As a seven year old, Aedan always appreciated when Uncle Howe always brought him new toys. Despite his sleep addled state, Aedan still looked forward to whatever the Arl brought today._

_"You're too fierce little one! The world's not ready for you!" roared his father. With a slap of the reins, the three men set off on their horses. Aedan watched alone as his father and his hunting party rode off into the woods, waiting until he could no longer see their figures until he returned inside._

_His father had bought something from Denerim for his birthday- a training dummy, with spinning pegs and made of the sturdiest wood. With all his strength, Aedan flung his sword against the dummy._

_The peg swung around back to hit him in the face._

* * *

 

The sky faded into orange, and the crowds began to thin out. The sheer amount of attendees had not surprised Aedan. Castle Cousland had actively advertised the dinner in honor of the Grey Wardens. The nobles celebrated with more gusto and frivolity than ever before. Aedan theorized that even they, up in the north, feared the oncoming Blight in the south. Tense smiles were plastered on their faces and everyone laughed oddly and too much.

Political events hosted by the Couslands, a rather prestigous noble family second only to the King's, came in different venues. The standard wine and dine happened most often. Teryn Cousland would invite a good twenty to thirty people to discuss the state of the Teynir. In actuality, most people just came to vent their problems regarding the region. Other times they hosted grand feasts, often times around the holidays. Aedan didn't hate it completely. Besides the people, the topics, the setting, the ass-kissing, the pandering, and most everything, Aedan always enjoyed the little food trays Nan put out, particularly the smoked venison.

Tonight's dinner hadn't been any different. At the official dinner table, Aedan had been forced by his parent to cut down on his food intake, as to be more 'becoming'. Nobles flocked to his father, making roundabout offers in exchange for extra troops to protect them. Those who already had sizeable armies made offers of said troops in exchange for political leverage. Nothing but flattery had been aimed towards the Grey Warden tonight, Duncan.

Duncan seemed every bit the part of a Grey Warden: wise, combat-experienced, and brave. These were the men and women who would save the world from the Blight. He hadn't even taken off his armor when dining; granted, twas only leather, but it seemed rather strange a custom. Perhaps he always needed to be ready.

Aedan stepped into the courtyard. There his scratched and battered training dummy awaited him. He took a few moments to readjust the nails and bolts that held it together.

His lungs filled with air. Aedan took two steps backwards. His body relaxed.

And he was ready.

With a swift toss Aedan's sword flew into the air. His arm arced out, grabbing the sword. In one quick motion he struck the first peg. Almost instantly the opposing end came to hit him, but it rang against the steel of Aedan's shield. A kick sent the lower pegs spinning. A blur of spinning pegs was before him. Aedan's eyes tracked the whirls with hawk-like precision. Aedan jumped, struck, ducked, and he too became a blur. Whatever strike his sword made, his shield was always up and defending. His body flowed around the dummy, barraging it from all angles: striking top, bottom, middle, then again, chaining his moves into a vicious cycle of metal.

One final strike from Aedan split right through the dummy, sending it's remnants flying. He smirked. He need a new one anyways.

"Bravo son," remarked his father, "didn't think you'd run through the steel one we ordered from Orzammar so quickly."

The broken steel frame lay shattered on the ground. The two Cousland men stared at it for a brief moment while Aedan caught his breath. Training had been a daily ritual of Aedan's for a long time. An wise, rather cantankerous, old elf had once beat into him- always train, for you'll never know when you need it.

"Even if I was as young as you, I could never dream of matching up to what you do here," complimented Bryce, who patted Aedan on the back. Before Aedan could speak, his father said, "I know what you're going to want to say. You want to go off and be a Grey Warden."

Just as Aedan was about to open his mouth, his father whacked him square on the back. "Well, I'm afraid I'm going to have to say no to that."

Bryce's hand was brushed aside as Aedan said, "And why not father? Why can't I go and serve my countrymen? Why can't I once be on the front lines and be a hero, instead of just wasting my life away here?"

Immediately after he said that, Aedan saw the sad look on his father's face. His own face dropped as well.

"Sorry father, I just..."

Bryce sat his son down on the nearby bench and put his arm around him.

"Son, both your brother and I will be at Ostagar. Cailan tells us the battle will be a roaring success and that we will push back the darkspawn. One united army, defending our great nation," Bryce stated, true belief in his eyes.

"But if the battle doesn't go well, we need someone to protect our family, our legacy. We need someone to keep Oriana, Oren, and your mother safe. I know you want to do something great and go be a hero instead of sitting here. But what good are you even as a man if you can't even protect the people near you?"

Bryce and Aedan looked at each other. After the briefest moment, both smiled and got up. No words were needed. Bryce put both hands on Aedan's shoulders.

"One recruit amidst the entire army of Ferelden won't make a difference. One man defending his family can," said Bryce, patting his son on the back and walking both of them back to the living quarters.

"Come on Father, you're telling me that this battle wouldn't succeed without someone like the Hero of River Dane?" replied Aedan.

"Ha, Loghain! A good man with a demeanor that would kill puppies with one look. Ask him yourself next time we go to meet the nobles- he doesn't even like the title."

Bryce waved his son good night and turned the corner to his room.

The dark of the night had fallen. The stars in the sky were as clear and bright as polished steel. The moon draped it's gentle beams across the courtyard and it's surroundings: the rustic stone wall whose rough vines he used to climb, the crooked steps where he and his brother played tag, and the bench where his mother used to sing him lullabies.

Aedan stood and smiled. He thought to himself, Well...no place like home.


	2. Storm

One hour ago, she panted and moaned his name, her warm body grinding against his. Now, Iona's blood trickled through the cracks of the stone floor. Her lifeless eyes stared into the distance.

Aedan's hand grasped for the sword by his bed and he rolled out of the way of an incoming blow. Gregory mauled the other soldier while Aedan went low and cut at his attacker's legs. The man fell to the ground and cursed, "Kill this son of a bitch!"

Three more attackers charged in. Aedan's pommel crashed against the man's chin, knocking him out. Gregory lunged at the archer while Aedan smashed his fist into the face of the third guard. The guard's nose cracked as blood flew out. The man stumbled to the ground, where a swift kick from Aedan sent him reeling.

As one guard struggled to regain his bearings, Aedan kneeled down next to Iona. His lips wavered as he thought of something to say. "I'm so sorry." His bloodied fingers closed her eyes for the final time.

The guard had gotten up, and saw Aedan's back turned to him. With a roar he lunged sword-first, but Aedan whirled back and slammed the man's head into the ground. His fingers gripped the man's face like a vice.

"Who sent you?" panted Aedan, but the man had passed out. The man's shield caught Aedan's eye. His heart halted. Howe's crest. His eyes darted to the other men's equipment. Howe's crest, Howe's crest, Howe's crest. It couldn't be.

"No no no no no." The wall shook as Aedan smashed the shield against it. He looked again. The crest remained. He clawed at the front, hoping that it would scrape away to reveal something else, anything else. It still remained.

"NO!" Aedan threw the shield against the floor, his stomach lurching and hot tears welling up at the corner of his eyes.

* * *

_"I'm gonna get you! The bedtime monster is gonna get you!" laughed Howe as he chased after Aedan._

_"Stop Uncle Howe!" giggled the little Aedan, who leaped up to grab the top of the courtyard wall. He made the jump, but his fingers started slipping._

_"I'm gonna eat you up!" growled Howe in a deep voice, stomping towards him. Aedan gulped as his finger gave way. His eyes shut in anticipation of the painful impact, but he opened them to find Howe had caught him._

_"Aren't you going to slay the monster?" said Howe, a smile on his face._

_"I don't wanna kill anyone," replied Aedan, who hugged the grizzled man around the neck, "Even the big bad monster."_

_"Well Aedan," muttered Howe grimly as Aedan dozed off, "some people just need killing."_

* * *

"Aedan!" His mother Eleanor burst through the door. Blood dripped from a dagger by her side. Her usually neat hair now lay undone. Instead of a nightgown she had donned leather armor he had never seen her in.

"Mother- are you all right? You're bleeding!" Aedan rushed forth and squeezed his mother and buried his face in her hair. His heart calmed, a little bit of worry relieved. He released her and checked up and down for wounds.

"Don't worry about me. I am no Orlesian wallflower," His mother's head turned in every which angle. " "Where's your father?" she cried, "who did this?"

Aedan picked up the face-down shield and presented it to Eleanor. "These are Howe's men- all of them, why the hell would he do this?"

Eleanor paused at the sight of the shield. Her eyes widened. Her lips mumbled something inaudible. A croak escaped her and her fingers trembled. "Maybe they are, maybe they aren't, it doesn't matter right now," Eleanor muttered, "what matters now is finding our family and getting out of here." She picked up one of the guard's bows and strapped in a quiver on her back.

And it dawned on Aedan. He broke into a sprint. His feet clattered against stone as he scrambled down the hallway. Please no, he thought as his finger pushed against the door. Not them.

Aedan nearly threw up when he saw them: Oriana and Oren, lying in a pool of blood. The attackers must have gone to their room first. His knees buckled to the ground. He crawled to their dead bodies, his heart pounding. His fingers fumbled for Oren's, squeezing the cold flesh till it hurt himself. "He was eight," he seethed through his teeth. The sounds of footsteps approached, and Eleanor rounded the corner.

"Aedan, I- oh."

It took a moment for her to process it, but his mother too fell to the floor, tears welling up.

"No...my little Oren." Eleanor clutched his body close. Her tears streamed down her face and her entire body shook. Aedan watched Oren's lifeless eyes as his mother held him. Never again would the young boy look up at him and ask him to tell him stories. Oriana's body lay next to Oren. Bloody stabs littered her back, a testament to her last act of motherhood. Hoarse battle cries rang across what seemed to Aedan to be an abyss. Gregory nudged up against little Oren and whined. He barked, but no response came from the child. Gregory nudged again.

"Mother, we need to go." His throat had closed up, and Aedan struggled to push out even those few simple words. His mother didn't answer. She still kneeled on the floor. She rocked Oren's body in his arms. Frantic whispers escaped her tight-lipped mouth. Aedan placed his hand on her shoulder. His breathing tightened more and more, his fist clenched, and he gritted his teeth: all to hold back his hot tears. He'd save his tears for when his family was avenged.

"Mother," Aedan croaked.

"Let's...Let's go." She lay Oren's body down, and draped his mother's arms around him. Aedan held his mother's shoulder as he led her out of the room, her face buried in her hands. They didn't look back. The smell of fire filled their lungs as they approached the main chambers. Aedan peeked around the corner to see Howe's guards swarming the hallway. He turned back to his mother and beckoned her and his dog closer.

"Mother, we may want to try and avoid fighting. We can't risk alerting more guards to us."

"There's an old way out in the cellar- maybe that's where your father is!" said Eleanor. Aedan nodded. His father was quick thinker, and had confidence in his family to get to the best escape route. The three dashed across the hallway whilst two guards had their backs turned.

"Wait, Aedan, the family armaments." Eleanor tugged on Aedan's sleeve. "We can't let Howe get ahold of those."

"Having decent equipment would certainly help," Aedan said. Aedan's old practice sword and shield wouldn't cut it against real weapons.

* * *

_"Father," said Fergus, "will I ever get to use the family sword?"_

_"I hope not," smiled Bryce, "or at least I die the day before the peace we have with the Orlesians is shattered." The glint of the sword shone in the five year old Aedan's eye, and he squinted them shut. Bryce gently polished the sword in circles with his rag._

_Most of the time the sword sat in the family vault, along with all their other treasures. It seemed a pity to the young Aedan that such a majestic weapon stay locked up. Swords were meant to slay monsters, not collect dust atop a mantle._

_"But a sword's for fighting!" laughed Fergus, who snatched up the sword and swung it in a clumsy arc. Aedan wondered when he would be strong enough to swing the sword._

_"Boys, let me tell you about this sword." Bryce snatched the hilt from Fergus. The aged hilt caught Aedan's eye. Unlike so many of the fancy Orlesian swords he had seen nobles carrying around, the hilt's simple structure, yet with the tiniest engravings for flair, seemed to him more practical._

_"Dear Maker not this again," groaned Fergus._

_"Yes this again." Bryce pulled Fergus by the ear and sat the yelping boy down next to Aedan._

_"Boys, this sword served our ancestors at the Battle of Lake Calenhad, at the very founding of our nation. This sword served me well when we freed ourselves of the Orlesians. It is a weapon meant for establishing peace- not for warmongering. And I will be damned if all that we fought to protect just eventually falls to war again."_

* * *

Aedan swam in a sea of blades and blood, wading through it with the family sword. "Come get some!" he screamed at the guards attacking Ser Gilmore. Gilmore collapsed to the floor a bloody mess. Five swords swung down upon Aedan. He winced as two winged him, but he rolled out of the way of the others. Blood spattered on his face and an arrow-riddled guard fell behind him. Aedan slashed the legs of the surrounding guards, who promptly fell to the floor screaming.

Pain shot through his arm as his fingers were chilled. The nearby mage had frozen his sword, and his fingers stuck to the hilt. Aedan threw his shield at the mage's face, smashing it in and knocking her down. He grimaced in pain as he pulled his hand off the hilt, his skin sticking to the cold metal.

"Go!" shouted Gilmore, who tackled another guard to the ground. Aedan, his mother, and his dog sprinted out of the room, rushing past unsuspecting guards and into the kitchen. As he ran in, his foot hit something soft. Aedan's heart dropped. He didn't want to look down, but he had to know. His eyes saw the knife first. Nan's kitchen knife. Thank god, he thought. "Nan," he cried out, "where are-" Then he saw the face. Everything stopped. He couldn't feel the heat of the raging fires. The shouts of his mother. The footsteps approaching. He kneeled down and withdrew the knife from Nan's chest, pocketing it in his belt. He closed her eyes. Aedan lingered for a moment, then planted a kiss on her forehead. He couldn't say anything. If he spoke now, he'd break down crying. He couldn't afford that. Not now.

"There you both are," groaned Bryce as Aedan and Elaborate stumbled into the hidden passage. He clutched at his bleeding left side and coughed up blood. "I was wondering when you'd make it."

"Maker's blood, you're bleeding!" Elanor rushed to her husband side to help him. She ripped off some of the fabric of her pants to fashion a

"Howe's men...found me first...almost did me in right there. He can't...get away with this...the king will-" Bryce keeled over in pain. His hand slipped in his own blood, and his face fell to the floor.

"Bryce, we have to get you out of here," said Eleanor. Her once restrained tears now flowed freely.

"I won't survive the standing I think," Bryce gasped through blood.

"That's not true, you'll be fine!" pleaded Aedan. He grabbed his father by the shoulders to steady him. His father gurgled in pain. Blood spilled from his mouth. Aedan and his father shared a look. They both knew he wouldn't be fine.

"Someone must reach Fergus- tell him what has happened," Bryce said resolutely.

"Once Howe's men break through the gates, they will find us. We have to go!" cried Eleanor, who held Bryce in her arms, desperately trying to bandage his wounds.

"The castle is surrounded...I cannot make it."

"I'm afraid the teryn is correct," came a voice from behind Aedan. Nerves frayed, Aedan whipped his sword around at the intruder. Duncan stared back at the sword in his face. He had strange veneer of calm about him. Aedan's breathing softened, and he lowered his sword.

"Howe's men have not yet discovered this exit, but they have the castle surrounded- getting past will be difficult," said Duncan.

"You are Duncan, yes? The Grey Warden?", inquired Eleanor, still a little startled from his sudden entrance.

"Yes, that is correct. You husband and I tried to reach you."

"You are under no obligation to me Duncan, but I beg you, see my family to safety," pleaded Bryce through ragged breaths.

"I will your lordship," said Duncan, "but in return I must ask something of you."

"Anything,"coughed Bryce.

"What is happening here pales in comparison to the greater evil brewing in the south. "

Bryce nodded. "The blight," he said," And you need a recruit. My son." He groaned in pain, then whispered, "You have my blessing."

Aedan looked at his father, who put his bloodied hand on his son's shoulder and nodded. With heavy heart, Aedan said, "I accept."

Bryce tugged on Aedan's shoulder and have him a little shake and smile. "Look at that...My little pup is going to be a Grey Warden. They grow up so fast, don't they Eleanor?"

"He'll still always be our little Pup," sputtered Eleanor through her tears. She grabbed the back of Aedan's neck and placed a kiss on his forehead.

"We need to go," said Duncan, who tugged on Aedan's arms. Aedan gave a lingering look to his parents. "I love you both so much," he whispered, hugging both of them for the last time. His arms gripped the two of them and lingered in their warmth. His parents patted him on the back and smiled. They gave him a little push and nodded towards the escape way. His fingers clung to theirs as he turned away.

"Let's go," he muttered to Duncan, gripping his fists till they bled to hold back the tears. The two sprinted through the secret passageway. The moon shone through the exit. The two barreled out of the tunnel, only to find themselves in the middle of several guards.

"Hey!" One guard swung his mace down at Aedan. His shield was over on the ground, so Aedan took his sword in both hands and swung to counter. The old metal, made brittle by the mage, stood no chance against the force of the mace. The shattered pieces of the family sword rained down upon Aedan. He was knocked to the side, landing on the shards of the sword. Aedan howled in pain as the shards sunk deep into his flesh. Cold wet rain trickled down his face as heard the squish of footsteps in the grass approach. Out of the corner of his eyes, Aedan saw the guard raise his mace for one final blow. Aedan had no time to think- his fingers fumbled for something, anything. He felt the wet wooden handle of Nan's knife in his belt.

* * *

_Nan smiling, her wrinkled hands on his tiny ones as she showed him how to chop onions. She held his hand tight, laughing as Aedan started to tear up._

_"Those are some mighty frightful onions," she laughed._

_"I'm not crying," said Aedan, "real men don't cry." The little boy wiped away the tiny droplets at the corner of his eyes._

* * *

He raised the knife above his head.

_The smell of curried chicken and potatoes._

His fist clenched around the handle, digging into the splinters and drawing blood.

_His family, sitting around a table, eating together. Oren asleep in Oriana's lap. Fergus and him struggling for the last chicken. His parent bickering over who would walk Gregory. Nan laughing as the chicken fell off the table amidst the family struggle._

The knife throttled through the air. Blood spewed forth from the guard's throat. The man gurgled for a second, reaching his hand out before falling over. Aedan crawled over the man's body, feeling for his knife amidst the pool of wet blood. He pocketed it in his belt, then collapsed to the ground. His hand held tight to the hilt of his broken sword as his vision blurred. It took a few moments for him to realize the gravity of what had just happened- Aedan had just killed for the first time.

"Aedan, get up, we have to flee."

Strong hands pulled at his armpits and lifted him up. The two limped over into the forest. The shroud of leaves and darkness enveloped them. Aedan shut his eyes, for the burning light behind reminded him that everything that once was, now burned.


	3. Wounds

"We're almost there."

The sunrise peeked over the horizon, basking Duncan and Aedan in its golden rays. While the two had travelled south from Highever, the weather had flourished. The sun had fallen and risen ten times. Aedan, with the hood over his head blocking the light, glared up at the mocking sun.

The caravan hit a bumpy path and the Cousland blade's shards clattered inside a pouch while the vehicle shook. After removing the shards from Aedan's arm, Duncan had gathered them in a small pouch for Aedan. The young noble clung to the bag, keeping it by his side at all times. Not even the hilt remained.

Aedan looked away from the sun and back down at the caravan's bottom. "Thank you," he said to Duncan, before tugging his cloak tighter.

"What?" The rare words from Aedan made Duncan do a double take. Aedan had not spoken for the entire ride. Duncan had sat across from him, telling him of the danger and battle ahead. He didn't cry, smile, or curse. He simply sat with a blank expression. Even when Duncan had pulled the jagged shards out of Aedan's arm, the young man only grunted. Aedan stared forward with empty eyes like a dead fish.

"If not for you, I never would have gotten out of there." Aedan rubbed the fresh wounds on his arm and winced. It still hadn't healed. The bandages felt slick with blood.

"You are welcome," stated Duncan. In the silence, Aedan changed the scarlet stained bandages around his right arm. Peering over, Duncan saw that the arm's condition remained the same, still resembling mince meat.

Once Aedan wrapped a fresh set of bandages, he asked, "Talk more about the Grey Wardens."

"Are you sure? I've been talking your ear off-"

"Please." Aedan buried his head in his arms. He clutched the shards of the sword closer. "It helps."

* * *

_"Tell me more about the Grey Wardens!" Oren tugged on Aedan's sleeve whilst yawning in his bed. Tonight Aedan would be the one to tell Oren the bedtime story._

_"And why can't you have your father do this?"_

_"Because he's not as good at telling stories as you," complained Oren._

_"Doubt it," shouted Fergus as he and his wife returned drunk from a noble's feast. Aedan had taken it upon himself to look over Oren whilst the couple was gone. The little 4-year-old had grown on him in the past few months, and the two always spent time together whilst Fergus was away on noble affairs._

_"Well, they're strong enough to smash steel with their bare fists. They're so quick that they could steal food from the pantry without Nan noticing." Aedan rolled across the room, then jumped up onto the end of Oren's bed._

_"Doubt it," shouted Nan as she passed by with the laundry._

_"They're so smart- they could trick a noble into giving them the clothes off their back...and paying them for it."_

_Oren looked up at Aedan with wide, shining eyes. "So they're heroes?"_

_Aedan grinned like a kid and ruffled Oren's head. "You bet your sorry ass they are."_

* * *

The caravan halted as the two came into sight of the ruins of ancient Ostagar. Aedan and Duncan lept off the side as the royal guard approached on horseback. In the middle of them rode Cailan, donning his shining king's armor. One time when Aedan had been in Denerim, after pushing his way through the crowds, he had seen Cailan don the armor in the parade. He'd imagined himself in similar armor, glinting in the sunlight as he held back the hordes of evildoers. Not gold though- it seemed rather gaudy.

The two hopped out of the caravan. Duncan passed the driver a sovereign and nodded. The driver grunted and whipped the reins, beckoning the horses elsewhere. Once the king and company reached them, Duncan bowed before the king, and Aedan did as well. The grinning king grabbed Duncan by the shoulder and held him upright before meeting him with a hearty handshake. "No need for such formalities, Duncan. We're going to be fighting side by side in a few days."

"In other countries, most regents would attempt to hang me if I did otherwise, Grey Warden or not."

"Try to?"

A hint of a smile flickered across Duncan's face. Cailan chuckled.

"And you must be Duncan's recruit! I had heard he was bringing someone to bolster the ranks of the mighty Grey Wardens!" Cailan rushed up to Aedan and gripped his hand. Up closer, Cailan was younger than Aedan had imagined. The closest he had ever seen Cailan was the parade. When his family went into Denerim for business, he had only ever seen him from a distance in the Landsmeet chamber. Yet up close, he had barely any wrinkles and his skin glowed and his smile radiated pure charisma.

"Have we met before? You look a little familiar."

Aedan glanced away while scratching at his hand. Duncan took the lead and gave a small gesture towards Aedan. "This is Aedan Cousland."

"Of course! You look just like your father, even more than Fergus!"

Those words stung in Aedan's heart as he thought of his father, bleeding out in that forsaken cellar, the shouting of Howe's guards closing in. The color had already gone from Bryce's face then. A cold sweat dripped down Aedan's brow as a slight tremble took his fingers. Aedan clenched his hands into fists to stop their movement.

"I'd have expected the rest of the Cousland troops here by now: where is your father?" Cailan turned to Aedan now.

The young man struggled to meet the king's gaze. "He's…" Aedan gripped his fists tighter. "He's dead."

Cailan's mouth fell agape. "Dead?..." His voice trembled for a second. "But I spoke with Fergus not more than a day ago, and he spoke well of your father's health. What could have happened? Was he injured on the way here?"

"Castle Cousland was assaulted in the night by Arl Howe's forces. My father, my mother, everyone was killed. Duncan helped me escape."

"Howe? Arl Rendon Howe? You're sure of this?"

Duncan nodded. "I saw the crests myself, your grace, along with guardsmen who had been by Howe's side that very night."

Cailan grasped Aedan by the shoulders, gripping his skin with a vice. Aedan thought to wince as the king had grasped his raw sword wounds, but the king's intense gaze perished that thought. "I swear to you, Aedan," said Cailan, "the minute Ostagar is dealt with, we will march upon Amaranthine and bring that monster to justice."

"Thank you, King Cailan. That means a lot."

Cailan released Aedan from his grip. "For now, however, Ostagar must be our main concern. I hope you understand."

"I...I do. The Blight supersedes all."

"Speaking of which," said Cailan, "Duncan, Loghain is calling another strategy meeting in a few minutes. Do you mind joining us?"

"Of course," said Duncan, "Just allow me to get Aedan started in his warden initiations. There's some errands I need him to run, and I'll have him find Alistair for that."

As the king and his guard departed, Gregory whined at Aedan's side and nudged his leg. Aedan smiled and scratched at his dog's head. "At least I've still got you, bud."

Duncan smiled at Gregory and Aedan. "Speaking of your dog, we should take him to the kennel. There's much business to attend to that we can't have him be a part of: there's still trials for you to under go, and we cannot have your mabari helping you."

Aedan nodded. "I understand."

Duncan gestured over to Gregory. "Come. We'll take you to the kennels for now."

Gregory growled and sat his rump down on the ground next to Aedan. Aedan rolled his eyes and pushed the mabari towards Duncan. "Come on, boy. You can trust Duncan. He got us out of Highever, didn't he?"

Gregory looked up at Aedan, over at Duncan, back at Aedan, then trotted over to Duncan while huffing. Duncan smiled and patted the dog on the head. Gregory perked up, his tail beginning to wag again. Duncan pointed over towards the main army camp. "In the meantime, get something to eat. They're handing out rations over there. After that, find Alistair. He's got blond hair and is about your age. He's one of our junior wardens who will be taking you through your Joining."

After Duncan had left with Gregory, Aedan took a moment to sit down. Someone's trunk had been propped up against a tree, but nobody was around it so he sat upon that. He buried his face in his hands and rubbed it over and over again. His gaze hung downwards while a long sigh left him. A tap on his shoulder. Aedan gazed up. An aged woman stood above him, her arms crossed. She was about as old as his mother, perhaps a little older. Looking at her green robes and staff, Aedan assumed she was a mage. Her white hair was pulled back and neatly bound, making her cross expression more apparent.

"You're sitting on my trunk," said the mage.

Still weary, Aedan rubbed his face and brought his ear closer to the woman. "What?"

"You're sitting on my trunk," she spoke a little louder.

"Oh- sorry," Aedan shot up. He winced as his arm collided with the nearby tree. He rubbed at his wounded arm. A little blood trickled from the wounds.

"Here dear, let me have a look at that. I'm quite the healer." The mage unwrapped the bandages, making a sour face at the minced flesh that was Aedan's arm. "Dear Maker, what happened here? Looks like a butcher shop." She scrunched her nose. "Smells like one too."

"Sword shards." Aedan held up the bag and jingled them. A faint light shone forth from the woman's hands as she ran them down his arm. If there were ever a stranger sensation, Aedan couldn't think of one. It tickled, it sent shivers down his spine, it felt like liquid warmth sprouted and danced in his wounds.

"Are you Duncan's recruit?"

"How'd you know?"

"You wardens have a certain demeanor about them," The light faded from the mage's hands, "Like you're carrying some insurmountable burden."

"Well, really the only thing we have to do is end the blight. I think the warden's you met were all just moody." Aedan chuckled, but it died quickly.

"In that case, what about you?" smiled the woman.

Aedan's gaze shifted away as he avoided answering. He scratched at the back of his neck. "Thank you very much."

"Good luck on the battlefield." The woman patted him once on the back and motioned to leave.

"Lady, I can tell you one thing- I'm fresh out of luck," Aedan said to her turned back.

The woman paused and looked back at him."Who knows young man? Perhaps today's your lucky day. All you need to do-"

She gently lifted his chin up and smiled at him.

"-is look up."

* * *

Lines of weary soldiers waited in line for their rations, with Aedan behind them. Although not the main army encampment, still too many soldiers crowded the area. Several units sat together and ate lunch as they tried to lighten the mood with jokes. Aedan leaned against a tree, chewing his dry rations as he surveyed for the Grey Warden Duncan had asked him to find. Would he be ten feet tall, wielding a sword the size of his body? Or perhaps a knight wielding the heaviest of armor, penetrable by no one?

All he saw were weary, frightened soldiers. Then again, he wasn't that different right now. His mind was scattered. The memories of that dark night made Aedan grip his fork tight. His mind replayed those events over and over again in his mind. If he had been quicker, stronger, smarter, he could have saved them, he could have saved them all. Now they were dea-

Aedan shook his head, shaking away his doubts. This wasn't the time. He could mourn later. There were things to be done. Darkspawn to kill. Justice to be had. An image flashed in Aedan's mind of Howe's limp body hung by a rope. When he and Duncan had arrived at Ostagar, the king promised Howe's eventual hanging. All Aedan just needed to survive this ordeal. And Fergus was still alive. Aedan could take solace in that. Together they'd avenge their family.

Aedan chewed slowly on his rations, swallowing without tasting. His stomach growled at the food's lack of substance. Nan had always put in a little extra meat for him. Instead in the tray before him was a putrid mixture of potatoes and vegetables with a few scraps of meat.

After some time, Aedan found the man, Alistair, that Duncan had asked him to find, pestering a mage. A scruffy looking man, by any definition- undone hair with what looked to be dirt in it, a light shadow on his face, but a grin that stretched across it. A mage stomped away, giving Alistair a dirty look as he departed.

"You know, one thing I love about the Blight is how it brings people together," chuckled the knight as Aedan approached.

It was a terrible, inappropriate joke with no punchline. Aedan didn't know why he still chuckled though. It had been the first time in awhile that he had laughed. Perhaps he needed a terrible joke.

"Like a tea party?" he replied with tentative grin.

"Yes!" said the templar, "like we could all stand in a circle and hold hands."

The two men chuckled and shook hands.

"I'm Alistair."

"Aedan."

"You're the first person whose laughed at any of my jokes- everybody else here has a rod up their ass," sighed Alistair, "Mages have two."

"Duncan told me to come and get you."

"Oh right, right, I'm supposed to go with you recruits through the joining. Ah bother," said Alistair, fumbling for a piece of paper, "I put in on a map, so I'll meet up with you in a half hour. Think I left the map where I ate lunch."

As Alistair searched for his map, Aedan decided to take a look around the army camp. Everywhere soldiers assembled and ran drills with one another, and Aedan had to navigate through the ever moving crowd of troops. After chatting briefly with several Chasind warriors, he came upon a tent with the insignia of Gwaren.

"Is this...Loghain's tent?" he asked the guard.

"Indeed," came the terse reply.

"So is he in there?"

"Indeed." The guard scowled at Aedan's pestering. Still relenting, Aedan asked, "Can I see him?"

The guard glared at him with annoyance. "No."

"But I've got a message for him, very urgent," lied Aedan.

The man outside groaned, pushing aside the flaps of Loghain's tent. Shortly after, the Teryn emerged.

"Yes what is it? What's the message?" replied the teryn. His eyes sagged from lack of sleep, for he had been up all night drafting plans. His forehead wrinkled in anticipation of the message- most likely something that would just piss him off.

Aedan's eyes widened and his words left him. The side of his mouth twitched. To be honest, he didn't think he'd get this far. "I lied. I just wanted to meet you." Aedan scratched his brow, "To be honest sir, you're sort of a hero figure to me."

"Really," said Loghain dryly. He raised a single eyebrow at Aedan and frowned.

"Read your analysis of the strategies used at the Battle of Blue Hills, and several others sir."

The Teyrn's frown faded. Loghain grunted with approval. "Not many people have. Good on you, boy...though I feel as though I've seen you before."

"Aedan Cousland." The last word tapered off quietly.

"Ah. I was informed of what happened by Cailan. My condolences."

Aedan tried his best to change the subject. "Plenty to keep me busy now. Blight and all."

"Honestly, I don't see what Cailan's fascination with your order is all about. What makes the wardens so special? A title, that is all. Slap on the word "warden" and suddenly you've got a big damn hero. I know plenty of men that are just as deadly as any of you wardens"

"Coming from the Hero of River Dane?"

"You see, I earned that. You've got to earn your place in this world if you want it to mean something."

"Who's to say they haven't earned the title of Wardens?" retorted Aedan.

"To a certain extent, certainly they have," admitted Loghain, "They've shown that they've got skill, strength, cunning. But that isn't enough to lean on, and certainly not enough for me to rest this entire battle upon."

"So what, else do they need?"

"What?"

"You're the Hero of River Dane. You probably know what we're missing."

Loghain at first couldn't decide if the boy was mocking him or actually serious. But he took a look at the young man, who leaned forward expectantly. "Boy, if I could answer that, this country would be in far better shape, and wouldn't even have to be dealing with this damn blight."

Aedan saw Duncan waving towards him, and bowed goodbye to the Teryn.

"Actually, one thing," remarked Loghain. Aedan stopped and faced the Teyrn. Loghain had the words on the tip of his tongue, yet he couldn't quite vocalize it. Finally, he said, "There are too many airheads in this world, Cailan, Wardens, most of the Landsmeet. Never forgot the soil that you grew from, boy. Keeps you grounded and strong."

* * *

"And here are the other two recruits," said Alistair. He raised his hands out and grinned.

Ser Jory and Ser Daveth were certainly not what Aedan had expected. Daveth's eyes darted to and for from one woman's behind to another, twirling a knife between his dextrous hands. He had the demeanor of a thief about him, his body naturally shifting towards the shadows. However, to Aedan he didn't seem quite combat capable- his body was thin and a little worn, perhaps from lack of food over the years.

Ser Jory on the other hand, what he had in muscle and brawn, he lacked in both bravado and hair. He shuffled his foot against the ground anxiously, waiting upon Duncan's command. He reminded Aedan of one of his uncle's: nervous, but caring. Skilled in combat, but without the stones to use it.

Were these all the Grey Warden's had?

A frightening thought came to Aedan's head. Was this all he was? Just like the two recruits in front of him- scared, weak, mortal?

"Nice to meet you two, my name is Aedan C-" greeted Aedan, who paused before his last name. "Just Aedan."

"Well met," replied Jory. Daveth grunted as he found another woman to stare lecherously at. Jory groaned and elbowed his fellow recruit.

"Ah yes, well met and all that other stuff," muttered Daveth, shaking Aedan's hand quickly, before turning his gaze away.

* * *

_"Brother!" said Fergus. The man released his hug on Oren to greet Aedan with open arms. The two embraced, giving each other a hearty pat on the back._

_"So, heading to Ostagar, eh? That oughta be fun," chuckled Aedan, "bring me back some darkspawn heads."_

_"I'll try brother," laughed Fergus. To be honest, Aedan was worried about his brother. Although experienced with a sword, Fergus had never once beaten him in sparring. He was a jolly man, but perhaps a little too easily distracted by noble comforts: he had been away at several noble parties beforehand, so his sword arm needed some practice._

_Eleanor and Bryce entered the room to see Fergus off. They hid their concern well with their smiles._

_"I will pray that the Maker protects you," said Eleanor, wrinkles in her brow._

_"I think that a good shield might be better," muttered Aedan beneath his breath. His mother pinched his arm and he winced._

_"I will still pray nevertheless. You are a good man, and I have faith that the Maker watches over you," stated Eleanor, "although I am not too sure about your brother here."_

_"I'm sure I don't need the Maker to protect me from the dust bunnies in my room."_

_Eleanor sighed and shook her head. "The sass on this one...I'll have to pray especially hard for you."_

_"Don't worry mother," said Fergus, "nothing is going to happen."_

* * *

"You have a wife?" asked Aedan as he and his companions trudged through the forest. He had noticed Jory cleaning his ring of blood after an encounter with wolves. They had been a vicious bunch, tempered by the harshness of the wilds. Aedan felt a little sorry cutting down the creatures, who wished only to protect their own. He could respect that.

"Yes," said Jory, who smiled to himself, "with child. How about you? Any family?"

"A brother. He's part of one the scouting parties going around-"

Aedan walked right into Alistair's back, who had stopped in the middle of the trail. Alistair put his finger over his lip, and motioned over to an armored figure standing off in the distance.

A growl and a hiss, like a dead man's wail from a crying baby. Drool dripped from its mouth as it roared at Aedan's company. Makeshift armor hung off its body, like a macabre doll some child had put together. Its face was leathery and wet, with what looked to be rotted flesh peeling from its skin.

Darkspawn. The name fit. Aedan had never seen anything so monstrous in his life. His heart raced for a brief moment as the fear surged through his veins.

But then he remembered that compared to other monsters, other murderers, this beast was no threat. The fear subsided, and his hold on his sword tightened. Aedan sprinted towards the darkspawn. The edge of its sword grazed above Aedan's head as he ducked down. Aedan upper-cut with his shield to stagger the beast backwards. While it stumbled backwards, Aedan slammed his sword straight into it's chest. The creature's dying roar flung putrid saliva against Aedan's face. Aedan kicked its chest off his sword and wiped his face off.

"Good job," said Alistair. He stood over the dead darkspawn and uncorked a vial to take its blood. "This one's for you." He handed the bottle to Aedan. A little darkspawn blood dripped down the glass vial. It stuck to Aedan as he grabbed it with his hand, sending a cold shiver down his spine.

"So what are we supposed to be getting this darkspawn blood for?" asked Aedan.

"They happen to make great bath salts, so we include them in a little goodie bag we give to every new Warden," chuckled Alistair. The suspicious expressions of the others indicated their lack of amusement. "You'll see," he said, "Now just be thankful these are only scouts."'

Indeed, as they trekked through the Kocari Wilds, the group only encountered stragglers and small groups- nothing that four soldiers couldn't handle. For some reason though the darkspawn kept encountering them wherever they went- the darkspawn seemed to be approaching them, hunting them.

After much travel, the group came upon the abandoned tower. Littered with broken trees and partially engulfed by swamp water, the group had to tread with care. Aedan found the scene majestic in a way: how the vines wrapped around the tower, encircling it and giving it new life as a home for animals. The way the sun cast a hazy shadow across the foliage. The sounds of the swamp creatures echoing through the vast space. He had never seen anything like it.

"Nervous, are we Jory?" slithered Daveth, who patted the unnerved knight on the back with a smile. The knight flicked away Daveth's hand, and snarled back, "Do not touch me. I do not like this...any of this."

Jory turned to Alistair, and said, "Why all these damn tests? Have I not already proven myself as ready to fight darkspawn?"

Alistair shrugged and made a sour expression."You'll see. Wouldn't want to spoil the surprise." Aedan continued to look upon the argument between the three. They had forgotten about the search and now bickered. "Come on, these documents aren't going to just be handed over to us," shouted Aedan at the three. Their voices died down, and the sound of their footsteps came behind him. A quiet squish below his feet and a resulting smell alerted Aedan that he had stepped in something quite unappealing. Alistair's giggles did not help.

"You know that makes you sound like a girl," Aedan retorted.

"Doesn't matter- you still stepped in poo," laughed Alistair. Even the nervous Ser Jory couldn't help but snigger.

"Damn it." Aedan scraped his foot against a pillar. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted an aged chest covered in vines. One swift blow from his sword smashed it open. Nothing lay within.

"You have got to be kidding me." Aedan grumbled and motioned for the others to fan out and search the area. He looked down at the broken chest, filled with dust and plants.

"Lucky day my ass."

Aedan didn't know why, but the words of the aged mage came to mind after his own left his lips. He looked up. From a distance away, atop toppled stone, a woman stared back. Her eyes, yellow, mysterious, bright like the sun and dark like the night startled him. Her gaze met his.

Perhaps it was his lucky day.


	4. Greetings

"Well, well, what have we here?"

The black-haired woman approached, her tied up hair swaying a little in the back. Her makeshift garb left little to the imagination. The dark red robe hung down her chest, revealing a faint outline of her well shaped bosom. Strings and patches of cloth held together her outfit. The feathers that poked out her robe's shoulder reminded Aedan of a raven: dark, free, and flying higher than anyone else.

"Are you a vulture, I wonder?" Her head tilted to the side. "A scavenger poking amidst bones that were long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn filled Wild's of mine in search of easy prey?"

The young woman's eyes scanned the group before her. Two scared men, another in a ready stance with his sword drawn, and, more interestingly, one standing his ground as she grew closer. She could see him scanning her, assessing the situation.

"What say you, hmmm? Scavenger or intruder?" She twisted her head at Aedan.

"Neither," said Aedan, "We are Grey Wardens, and this tower once belonged to us." The words "Grey Wardens", when they rolled off Aedan's tongue, made him look back at his companions than back at himself. He had always imagined a group of Grey Wardens to be more...heroic looking. Instead all four of them were covered in mud and sweaty from trekking through the Wilds and Aedan had poop on his greaves. He scraped his foot against the ground again.

The women replied, "Tis a tower no longer- the Wilds have obviously claimed this dessicated corpse."

The women took two steps forward, and the three people behind Aedan stepped back. Aedan stayed still as the woman approached.

"I have watched your progress for quite some time, and I have been wondering, why disturb ashes which no one has touched for so long?"

"Don't answer," whispered Alistair, "she looks Chasind." His eyes darted across the surroundings. "There may be more nearby."

"Oh." The woman stifled a mean laugh but still a snicker escaped. "You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?"

"Yes..swooping is bad." The former templar glared at the woman. His sword remained drawn.

Daveth's teeth chattered. His eyes darted about searching for any more Chasind. "She's a witch of the wild's she is- she'll turn us into toads!"

The woman scowled, shaking her head at Daveth. "Witch of the Wilds? What drivel is this, these legends and stories of yours? Have you no minds of your own?"

The forest woman turned once again to Aedan. "You there, handsome lad, tell me your name and I shall tell you mine. Let us be civilized."

Aedan paused for a second, but considered the woman's words. "I am Aedan. A pleasure to meet you." A smile crept across his face as he bowed in front of the woman. Whoever she was, she either had valuable information, or was someone he didn't want to piss off. Courtesy only helped.

The woman smiled with what could be either delight or humor. "Now that is a proper greeting, even here in the Wilds. You may call me Morrigan."

* * *

The leaves of the surrounding trees rustled as Aedan pushed them aside. A shabby hut sat by a murky lake. It looked decrepit, with beams and old planks hanging off, but perhaps that was the point. An old woman awaited them even before they had arrived, a smile on her face- Morrigan's mother no doubt. According to Morrigan, her mother had taken the Grey Warden documents he and the others had been looking for. Judging by the condition the chest had been left in, she'd done it awhile ago.

Morrigan walked over to the old woman standing by her door. "Mother, here are four grey wardens-"

"Yes, yes, much as I expected," interrupted the old woman. She waved Morrigan off to the side. The younger witch glared at her mother but followed the command in silence, choosing to stand by her Mother's side and face the wardens.

"Are we supposed to believe that you were expecting us?" asked Alistair.

"You do not have to anything, least of all believe. Whether you shut your eyes or open your arms wide," She gave a knowing glance at Alistair and Aedan. "One's a fool."

Morrigan's mother smiled at Aedan, twisting into a sinister curve at the edge of her lips.. Years around politicians had given Aedan a talent for reading people- their body language, their speech, their mannerisms- but this woman defied everything he had learned. There was no movement from her, save for the turning of her head and the gaze of her eyes. No twitch of the eye, no nervous ticks. Clearly, she was going for the 'frail, eccentric, old woman' act, but beyond that her intentions eluded Aedan. Her confident smile sent a shiver down his body. In the background, Daveth and Jory squabbled with fearful whispers. Alistair stood at alert, his hand never leaving his sword hilt nor his eyes the women before him.

"And what of you?" Morrigan's mother directed her gaze at Aedan, raising an eyebrow, "do you believe as the others do? Or do you possess a different viewpoint?"

"I'm not sure what to believe." Aedan removed his hand from his hilt to cross his arms across his chest. His brow furrowed as he stared at the old woman who stared back.

"A statement that possesses more wisdom than it implies. So much about you is uncertain...and yet I believe...or do I? It seems I do!" The woman cackled while the four wardens glanced at one another. Her laughter died and she gave a knowing smile. "I have what you seek. Your treaties are here."

Alistair's nostrils flared and his hand wandered towards his hilt. Flemeth held a hand up and sighed. "Before you begin barking, the seals on your chest wore off many years ago. I have protected these."

"You protected them?" asked Alistair, "Why?"

"Why not? I'm not so foolish as to cripple the Grey Wardens. Someone must fight the darkspawn. Take these to your precious superiors and tell them this Blight's threat is greater than they realize."

Aedan eyed the old woman's hands as she reached into her robe to pull out three aged scrolls and handed them to him. With the greatest care he unraveled the scrolls to check their contents. Alistair eyed them from behind. Aedan brushed dust off the surface and made out the aged words on the fading parchment.

"Treaties that oblige the elves, dwarves, and mages to help in a time of a blight. I could see how these would be useful." Aedan rolled them back up and placed them in his pack. "Thank you for safekeeping these."

"Such manners! Always in the last place you look. Like stockings." Morrigan's mother chortled at her own joke and waved a single foot, with no socks and only a slipper, before Aedan. "If only I could find mine...Where did I put those things?" Morrigan's mother waved two fingers at Morrigan and pointed back into the Kocari Wilds."

"Morrigan, please see our guests out of the Wilds."

"Must I, mother? They were capable enough to traverse to the tower, I doubt they will have problems getting back. Besides-" Morrigan shot a glare at the wardens. "I wouldn't want them constantly fearing I might turn them into a toad the entire trip back."

"I did not save those treaties just so they could get lost again. Go."

* * *

"Thank you," said Aedan as the group neared where they had originally entered the Wilds. From a distance they could already hear the shouting of soldiers running drills.

"I told you at the beginning, you need not attempt small talk with me," said Morrigan. "We need not pretend to be amicable."

"Just saying thanks."

"Why?"

"You're taking the time to show us out of the Wild's, when you could just leave us clueless in the middle of nowhere. So thank you."

The woman scoffed. "Tis not my desire to show you out- my mother is the one who insisted I do so. I would have heard no end from her if I had not done so."

"Interesting place to live, the Wilds."

"If you are looking down on my living choices, then perhaps we should test that theory of whether I can turn men into toads."

"I'm serious. I've been cooped up in the same snowy areas for most of my life. Seeing something like this is...refreshing."

"This swamp...is refreshing?" Alistair looked at the recruit in disbelief.

"You know what I mean," laughed Aedan.

"I really don't." Alistair made a face as a bubble popped on the surface of a nearby bog, splattering mud over Jory's legs.

"You know, getting out to see new places. I always wanted to be an adventurer, seeing the world."

Morrigan raised an eyebrow. "You may be the first person I've met that's regarded the Wilds as remotely interesting. And what, if I may be so curious, kept you cooped up in the same place?"

"My family," said Aedan, who gave Jory an irritated push forward. The knight had stopped in the middle of the path to clean his leg, delaying the group. Nightfall had come, and however intriguing the Wilds, they had to make it back to camp in time.

"Yes, Flemeth was not a very lax mother either."

The group came upon sight of the army camp.

"We can do the rest by ourselves, I doubt you want to be spotted by the templars," said Aedan, who gave Morrigan a wave whilst the other three ran off hurriedly towards the camp. The witch's playful jeerings during the walk there had unnerved Daveth and Jory to no end.

As Aedan turned his back to her, Morrigan muttered, "You're welcome."

"Hmm?" Aedan turned around to face her.

Her lithe figure disappeared into the foliage, and the sound of her footsteps vanished. "I do not wish to be impolite- that is all," she growled out of sight.

* * *

_"Please muster every iota of energy you have not to be impolite." Bryce Cousland rubbed his forehead and looked at his son. "So, pup, can please repeat to me what I've told you to say?"_

_Aedan sighed, crossed his arms, and grumbled under his breath. His hand wandered towards the top button of his collar to undo it: he'd grown a bit more the past year and the shirt was too tight on him. Yet he saw his father's glare- doing so would be improper for the feast they now sat it._

_"Come on," said Bruce, "You do this, and the land dispute between Bann Abelard and Ser Orwell will be settled."_

_"Hello Bann Abelard, so nice to see you," gritted Aedan through his teeth, wearing a smile that strained his very skin. He walked over to a bust of his grandfather and shook an imaginary hand._

_"How's your son been doing? I heard he just took first place in the jousting tournament, that's really quite...splendid," trailed off Aedan before he gasped for air. "Damn, I can just taste the bullshit on my mouth." Aedan chewed his tongue as if to get rid of his words._

_Bryce laughed. "That bullshit is called politics, son."_

_"You mean pretending to be interested in someone I know to be a thieving, lying, conniving little snake who squanders his fortunes on prostitutes."_

_This marked the first time Bryce had ever asked his son to help him with politics. Aedan had been surprised when his father had come to him with this request- usually Fergus was the one who would do the talking, as he was the next in line for the position of teryn. At seventeen years old, most of Aedan's involvement with politics had been simply standing and shaking hands silently._

_"Son, all you have to do is get us invited to his manor- get me in there, and I'll do the rest of the talking. Before you know it, that little land dispute between our vessels is over, and a good bit of violence is spared."_

_"And why can't you just do the talking now? At this big gathering we're having?"_

_Every so often, Aedans father, the Teyrn of Highever, would have a party of sorts at the Highever castle for his vassals. Less formal than an official meeting of the teyrnship, but still tinged with the taste of politics. Nobles sipped wine and rubbed shoulders, hoping to push their agendas further. His father was no exception._

_"There are many, many more matters I have to attend to as Teryn. The amount of time it would take me to convince a stubborn man such as Bann Abelard to stop goading Ser Orwell into conflict with his neighbors would take awhile. Fergus is off away on business, so I need to trust you to do this for me."_

_"Just pull out the extra strong wine." Aedan yawned and stretched his arms towards the sky._

_"Aedan," growled his father. Rarely did Aedan's father take such a harsh tone with him, so he took notice._

_"Fine, fine, fine." Aedan waved his hands in the air and rolled his eyes. "Convince the Bann to invite us to his manor. Got it."_

_"And if he does invite you, make sure that you don't seem ungrateful. Being invited into another's home can be serious business."_

* * *

_Bryce took a seat next to Eleanor. "Aedan's about to go talk to the Bann," muttered Bryce as he rubbed his temples, "I just hope he remembers his manners."_

_"Here you go dear. Tell me if you need anymore," cooed his wife, who left to go talk with Lady Landra after handing her husband another glass of wine, but not before giving her husband a kis on the cheek._

_"Thank you." Bryce downed the entire glass._

_"It's not meant to be chugged."_

_"Watching our son would make you disagree."_

_Eleanor glanced at Aedan. As she left, she grabbed another glass of wine and muttered a prayer under her breath._

_Bryce cringed as his son approached the Bann, half-expecting the Bann to scoff and walk off. But to his amazement, Aedan approached the man with a charming smile and open body language. He almost spat out his drink in surprise when the two started laughing together._

_"Maker be praised," uttered Bryce as Aedan strolled over to his father's table. The young man slumped into the seat across from his father._

_"So I'm going to be participating in three days at some tournament they're holding." He flicked a piece of cheese into his mouth. "No big deal."_

_This time Bryce did spit out his drink._

_"Are you crazy? That's the Royal Swordsmen Tournament! That's some of the finest in all of Ferelden- you're going to come out of that black and blue all over."_

_"Relax father," Aedan chuckled, taking a sip of scarlet wine, "either I lose spectacularly or I win spectacularly. Either way, you have a front row seat to the matches alongside the Bann, during which you can charm him all you want. And I get to have some fun for once."_

_"How the hell did you do that? To get into that tournament is invite only by Cailan himself."_

_"Well, the Bann's other son was recently injured in a terrible accident a few days ago, so his spot in the tournament was vacant, and frankly their family could use the good press. A little brown-nosing here, a little wine there, and voila. You are now looking at the Bann Abelard's second born- I'm going to have to wear a helmet though, never been a big fan of those."_

_"So you're pretending to be his son?"_

_"I think I might have to grow a moustache. Does his son have moustache?" mused Aedan absentmindedly as he rubbed the area above his lips._

_"I thought you'd be terrible at this Aedan," admitted his father._

_"What did you think I was doing at all those fancy dinners Father? Just staring at the wall?" grinned Aedan, " I just remembered what you always taught me. Always be vigilant."_

_Bryce's heart warmed. "That's my boy," he smiled._

* * *

_The crowds outside the arena roared. Inside the changing rooms, Aedan and his brother strapped the younger Cousland into his armor. "So, Fergus, what do you think?" Aedan turned around clad in armor. He had made sure to give it an extra shine._

_"Well, I can't tell it's you," said Fergus, "if that's what you're asking." Fergus flicked Aedan's helm and Aedan's shook inside. Aedan slapped his brother's hand away, but Fergus took the other and flicked the forehead again._

_"No, that's not it... do I look-"_

_Aedan struggled to find the right word. For him, this tournament wasn't just a favor for the Bann- that was just a plus. For him, it represented a chance to test his mettle against some of the greatest knights in the realm. For so long he had been cooped up in the Highever Castle, living the noble's life. But he wanted to be so much more, to be like the adventurers in stories. To be fighting epic battles and killing dragons. Aedan grinned as he decided on the right word._

_"Heroic." Aedan placed his hands on his hip and jutted his chest out._

_"Well if that's what you're looking for, then no."_

_"What," cried Aedan, "why not?"_

_"I don't know...I'd guess a hero would have some sort of aura about him, standing tall in the wind atop his defeated foes," mused Fergus, stroking his stubble in contemplation. \_

_"Come on, I got the whole getup here- sword and armor." Aedan swung said sword up above his head, battling imaginary dragons._

_"Aedan, if it were that easy to look like a hero, half of women in Ferelden would be tricked into a night with lecherous old men."_

_"Well, what do Loghain and Maric look like?" asked Aedan as he adjusted his helmet._

_Fergus sighed. "Why are you so concerned with this anyway- you look fine."_

_"You know, growing up, I always wanted to be one of those heroes out of the stories that Mother would tell us as we went to sleep. This is probably the closest I'll ever get- a knight at the king's tournament. That doesn't sound too bad."_

_"Brother, my advice? Be a bit more concerned about whether your armor is strapped in properly."_

_Fergus slapped Aedan on the back, whose chestpiece fell with a prompt thud on the floor. Aedan's face went red._

_"Go get em hero."_


	5. Remembrance

The Joining, Aedan surmised, or at least hoped, didn't involve pranks by senior members or hazing- although with Alistair around Aedan wasn't certain. During dinner Alistair had slipped a pouch filled with air under Aedan's seat. Upon sitting down, the bag emitted a farting sound, causing the surrounding soldiers to look at him funny, while Alistair giggled to himself.

Despite the embarrassment, Aedan appreciated the joke. It lightened the mood and distracted them from the looming battle. Everyone needed it. The soldiers teetered on edge: they fumbled with their weapons, picked at their food, and paced around. Jory especially so, for as much as the name of Grey Wardens was well-known, the ritual of the Joining was not. The knight fidgeted with his wedding ring and ticked his teeth.

"So, do you think Cailan's plan will work?" The fire crackled- Aedan's chilled hands wandered above the hazy warmth. The wind roared tonight so despite the summer the soldiers shivered beneath many layers.

Alistair poked the fire with a stick, rolling over the firewood. "I don't see why not."

"It seems too...simple. Too much like something out of a storybook." Aedan smiled and recalled his stories to Oren. "You know, heroes riding on horses over a hill, overwhelming a horde as the sun rises, shouting a battle cry to the heavens. Something like that."

"Stab the archdemon and stop the blight, how complicated is that?" said Alistair, "Darkspawn aren't cunning. We've got the manpower, we've got all the Ferelden Grey Wardens, we've got Loghain and Cailan. We'll be starting the battle around nightfall in a few days, so your whole sunrise theory might happen."

Aedan sighed. "You're right. Not everything has to be so complicated." He worked the back of his tense neck and sighed. "Just a little on edge, that's all."

Alistair patted Aedan on the back and shot him a grin though bits of rations. "Relax buddy, everything will be fine."

From a distance Alistair spotted Duncan. The Warden-Commander nodded at Alistair. Alistair's grin faded. Taking a deep breath in, he looked over at the three recruits before him. "It's time for the Joining."

* * *

_The sun glinted in Aedan's eyes as he lowered his visor, concealing his face. He approached the line of competitors who stood at ready. He too took his place, putting his arms at his side and with armaments sheathed._

_"Knights," shouted the announcer, "and all present. Please bow before your Highness, King Maric."_

_From the corner of Aedan's eye, the king approached. King Maric, clad in aged golden armor, marched down the line of knights, gazing into each of their helmets for a glimpse of their eyes. When Aedan's turn came, for the first time he saw the king's face up close. Maric was not old, but he possessed weary eyes that'd seen too much. Hints of wrinkles hovered around his eyelid and his brow._

_Yet something about the solemn way Maric stood, the heavy, powerful way he walked, made Aedan stand up straighter and puff out his chest. This man, this legend, had accomplished truly heroic deeds. Aedan's mother would regale him with stories of mythical creatures and legendary adventurers, but they had always been distant and faraway tales. And yet here, a man stood straight out of his childhood stories, who did things Aedan could only dream of: slaying dragons, uniting a nation, and adventuring across the lands._

_"Knights," uttered King Maric, "I know many of you entertain the fact that you are the best in Ferelden. Let's see if you can prove it to yourself and us you are right."_

_As Aedan's face landed on the ground, his steel helmet ringing against his head, blood pooling in his mouth. the thought occurred to him: maybe he was out of his league._

_For the first time in his life, Aedan met his equals, no, his superiors. When his blows met theirs, they pushed back with greater force. When he went to strike, their swords would find him faster. Only lucky breaks ensured his victories- one knight's armor, overloaded with fancy decorations, fell apart apart and distracted him. The one before that collapsed from heat exhaustion._

_For all of Aedan's practicing, all his drill's, all the dummies he had broken, there was one essential piece from his training he never thought about. He never took any a bad hits- never been in a tough fight._

_Aedan dueled with other noble children, but yet they never kept up with him. Defeating them taught Aedan nothing- they barely had time to pick up their sword before Aedan had his at their throat. Sometime they made glancing blows, and he and his brother would sometimes have fistfights, but he had never taken much damage in his life._

_His stomach reeled from his opponent's mace. Aedan had rushed in too close and had left his torso vulnerable whilst making a sword swipe. It felt strange to be hit so hard that it felt like he would throw up. Painful, but strange._

_Although he had just defeated his latest opponent, his body gave way, and he lay face down in the ground. He groaned and pushed himself back up, limping towards changing rooms where his father awaited him._

_"How you feeling son?" Bryce tossed his son a towel._

_"Like shit." Aedan threw his sweat drenched helmet to the ground and collapsed onto a nearby wall. He took his father's towel and wiped his drenched forehead. He panted and gasped for breath while massaging his bruised side. It hurt. Nobody had had ever hurt him this bad. Was this what actual fighting felt like?_

_"I've seen you do better," chuckled Bryce._

_"I'm doing my best here father," coughed Aedan, "I even got into the semi-finals. That's pretty fucking honorable. Think that'll please the Bann."_

_"Does that please you?"_

_"God no. But what the hell can I do? Better to go out with some pride than crawling on the floor like some kind of cockroach."_

_"When it comes to battle, never worry about looking like some sort of hero. That's what children worry about. Or politicians- it's hard to tell the difference."_

_The pair shared a knowing chuckle. Bryce stood over his son and gave him a little kick in the legs. "Pride is a dangerous thing son, never let it be your better. That's not what you should worry about."_

_"And what should I worry about?"_

_"Getting back up. It is so easy to stay down, to just quit. Every man will be knocked down at some point in his life. But a strong man, a good man, will get back up no matter what happens. And when you get knocked down again? Get back up and keep fighting. The man who always gets back up never loses."_

_Bryce handed Aedan's sword back to him. Aedan sheathed it back to his side and put his helmet back on. He crawled onto all fours, then pulled himself up the wall._

_"You think your mother said yes the first time I asked her out?" smiled his father. "We had such a terrible first meeting, and even after recovering from that, she still never held me in high regards- but I kept at it." Bryce smiled, looked at his wedding ring, and then down at his youngest son. "And I'm forever grateful I did. Keep fighting, son. That's really all you can do."_

_"Why do you have to make every damn conversation some sort of lecture?" Aedan groaned whilst covering his smile with his visor._

_Bryce placed his hand on Aedan's shoulder. "Because, to me, you'll always be my little Pup- always so full of life and energy and love and potential. I just want to make sure that when the world comes for you, you'll be ready."_

* * *

"What do you mean, missing?" Aedan growled. An elven messenger had just arrived back with news of Fergus's scouting group in the Wilds.

"They've been gone for five days, and their Mabari just came back...with this," stuttered the elven messenger, who handed Aedan a small woven bracelet. It had been Fergus's- a bracelet given to him by his wife for good luck. The messenger ran off with more scrolls before Aedan could ask after him. Even if Aedan tried, he could not follow. His feet had gone numb and his head pounded and his throat closed up. He looked down at the bracelet in his hand.

Perhaps this was all just a bad dream, a cruel joke played out by his mind. But Aedan gripped the bracelet in his hands, felt the worn woven string in his hands- this feeling, this thing, this was real. He held it by his heart. His breath had left as though knocked out by a punch. Sometimes he and his brother, when they were kids, would tussle: when Fergus had been older and had reach and strength, he'd always trounced Aedan, and often times Aedan would find the wind being knocked out of him by accident as a stray punch hit him. Aedan bit his lip. What he'd give for his brother to punch him in the shoulder one more time, to joke alongside, to have Fergus grab Aedan under his arm and mess up his hair.

And now, like the rest of them, he was…

Aedan shook his head, gripping his fist tighter. He couldn't think about this now. Not now. He swallowed and held back even the thought of tears. His fists clenched and shook as he slowed his breathing darkspawn horde approached and he had no time to wallow. He pocketed the bracelet and made his way over to the old temple ruins. A small campfire flickered as Daveth and Jory stood around it, bickering. The time for the Joining had arrived.

"Why all these tests? What are they planning on doing?" Jory paced back and forth, wringing his hands as he muttered aloud,

"Perhaps they're just trying to spook you ser knight," said Daveth. His usual jovial nature had disappeared, replaced by a grim expression. Arms crossed, he stared at the ground and pondered.

"What more could they ask from us? We have proven ourselves- what is this damn ritual?" shouted Jory, but as he opened his mouth to continue his shouting- his eyes widened and his voice quieted. "What if we die?"

"If you could save your pretty wife and child, wouldn't you sacrifice anything to stop this Blight?" resolved Daveth, "I would, if I knew it would end the Blight. Even a lousy thief like me knows the right thing to do."

"I've just never faced a foe I could not engage with my blade," said Jory, his heart racing. Jory's mouth sealed tight when Duncan approached, a silver chalice in hand.

Alistair followed with not a trace of a smile on his face, instead only a grimace. He motioned for the three recruits to stand at attention before him. Aedan, Jory, and Daveth lined up as Alistair spoke in a soft spoken, solemn whisper.

"The Grey Wardens were founded during the First Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation. So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood and mastered their taint."

Duncan held the chalice out to Daveth first. The three recruits leaned over the chalice and stared at the dark, tainted liquid within- pure jet black, like nothing Aedan had ever seen. Jory's face contorted in horror, "We're going...to drink their blood?" he croaked.

"Not just their blood. Normal darkspawn blood does not have enough corruption within to have an instant effect. There is lyrium to facilitate bonding with the body...and a single drop of Archdemon blood. One for each of you.

"It is the source of our power...and victory. Those who survive the Joining can sense the darkspawn and slay the archdemon using the taint within."

Aedan had always wondered why the Wardens were the ones to push back the Blights. They were the elite, the best of the best, but that couldn't have been all. So this was their secret. Ingesting the very monsters they fought, turning their blighted power against them. Some in the Chantry, nay perhaps most, would call this blood magic, an abomination, a disgrace against the Maker- becoming one with the creatures that had tainted the Golden City. No wonder the Grey Wardens kept their secrets so close.

Silence ensued while the recruits stared at the unholy mixture. "Let's get on with this then," said Aedan, lest he think about the horrific smell of the mixture or its implications.

Duncan nodded at Alistair. "If you would?"

"Join us, brothers and sisters," Alistair whispered, "Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you." He closed his eyes and let the silence simmer. He too endured a Joining. He too had those to remember.

Duncan raised his hands up, chalice in the air. He walked solemnly towards Daveth, then handed to him the chalice. Daveth sipped. The air tightened.

As he wiped his lips, sweat trickled down his brow and his skin paled. Daveth began to tremble and convulse, his hands shaking not out of fear this time. His body crashed to the ground. His eyes went completely white, and Jory and Aedan could only stare in horror as Daveth's body jerked one last time then went limp. A tiny stream of blood dripped from his mouth. When Aedan saw his eyes, he saw once again death staring back at him.

Alistair bowed his head in silence. He kneeled down and closed Daveth's eyes. Duncan too bowed his head, but then turned to Jory, the cup outstretched.

Joey's face paled. "No, no, you cannot ask me to do this!" said Jory, whose feet stepped backwards, "I have a wife, a child...please, if I had known..." He raised his hands out in front of him and looked away from Duncan.

"There is no turning back," asserted Duncan. He approached cup first.

Jory's hands met the pillar behind him in mid-flight. Sweat ran down Jory's face and clammy hands, which grasped for his hilt and swung his blade out in a wide arc. The tip grazed Duncan's side. Duncan put the cup down in a slow, controlled manner, then reached for his own sword. Jory's eye's widened in fear.

Aedan reached for Jory, but the knight brandished his trembling weapon at Aedan as well. "Don't do this," whispered Aedan, "just calm dow-"

"This is too much, there is no glory in this!" Jory lashed out, swinging his sword once again. Duncan rolled to the side, and with one quick rush sunk his blade into Jory's torso. Aedan jumped back at the sight and his chest palpitated and his face paled ashen white.

Jory coughed and choked on his own blood. Duncan pulled his dagger out and slit the man's throat. He cradled the dying Jory with his arm and eased him on onto the ground. His fingers closed Jory's eyelids. Daveth's motionless body lay on the ground next to Jory's bloodied corpse. The blood from Jory pooled out and soaked into the leather of Daveth's armor.

"But the Joining is not yet complete...we call upon you to submit yourself to the taint. For the greater good." Duncan held out the cup to Aedan with his blood-stained hands. Aedan took it in his hands. The fear surged through his body, numbing the edges of his fingertips as they touched the cold metal chalice. Aedan peered into the cup. Jory's share was still in there, and a little bit of Daveth's. And Daveth only sipped- what would happen to him? Perhaps only a sip, just a sip would do, and he would survive-

But his mind caught his thoughts as they descended into fear. This is what led Jory to his death. Fear made him weak. Daveth, though his body lacked the muscles of Jory, his resolution was strong. Aedan saw the man shivering but still took the chalice. There would be no stories told of Daveth, no triumphant tales of his bravery though. Daveth knew that risk, yet still drank. Jory's final words echoed in Aedan's mind- 'There is no glory in this!' The pursuit of glory had made Jory weak. Like a drowning man clinging to driftwood.

Aedan's fingers trembled as he brought the cup to his lips. He always wanted to be a Grey Warden, a hero, for glory. But that was a shallow dream, the fantasies of a boy who did not appreciate the family he had been so blessed with. He daydreamed of escape, and now he had almost nothing left of them except for his memories and a broken blade. All he could do now was carry on the strength they had given him.

Aedan gulped down once for Daveth. Another gulp for Jory. And the final one for him.

The spasms and the pain seared through every muscle. The darkness seeped into every vein and burn from the inside out. His vision blackened, but Aedan struggled for a hold on reality. He could still grasp the ground between his fingers, the wind against his face, but even those senses were dulling.

Is this what death feels like? he thought, the life ebbing out of him. There was pain, so much pain. His limbs convulsed while he gasped for air on the ground as Duncan and Alistair loomed over him, watching, hoping, with heavy expressions. Aedan could feel himself slipping into the darkness, his grip loosening. He clasped for anything, something, to keep him anchored to this world- but everything he ever loved had been ripped from him.

Maybe, maybe it would be okay to just-

He slammed his fist on the ground, holding back a scream of pain as he banished that thought from his head. Aedan replayed the images in his head that he had been trying so hard not to think about.

Nan's lifeless body. Oren's dead blood that ran from Oriana's back. His mother and father's final stand.

Who would bring them justice if not him?

His right arm burned hotter than any pain the taint raging through him brought, as if his sword shards were being twisted into his flesh. His mind zoomed in on that pain, anchoring himself to it, reminding him of what he had lost and what he had to do. There was still a Blight to stop, still justice to enact.

Flashes of a tainted dragon struck his mind, it's fearsome wail sending him reeling in pain. Hordes of rotted darkspawn faces hissed at him. Still he held onto his sanity, gritting his teeth through it all.

Any pain, Aedan thought, I must endure. Any sorrow, I must endure. I will not buckle under their weight, become slave to my weakness, my fear. I will do for the families of Ferelden what I could not do for mine.

Aedan still had duties in this world. He couldn't leave them- his family had taught him better than that. "I'll carry it all," he sputtered to the darkness.

Despite the pain raging through him, Aedan pushed himself off the stone floor. His muscles burned and clenched, but his body continued to rise. He would make it. As he stood there shaking, slowly, steadily, the pain subsided. He felt the cool wind and cold ground again. His breath slowed as the throbbing in his right arm calmed. Aedan collapsed against a pillar, struggling to keep himself up until all the pain disappeared.

"How do you feel?" asked Duncan, offering Aedan a hand. Aedan slapped it away, choosing instead to pull himself up using the pillar.

"I'm fine." Aedan wiped his sweat-drenched forehead on his sleeve. His head pounded and his mouth tasted funny. But his mind still held one question, which he voiced to Duncan: "Did he have to die?"

"Excuse me?" asked Duncan.

"You just...killed Jory. Why? I understand that he could have hurt you, but why not just knock him out?"

"He drew his sword. He could have hurt you, Alistair, or me. He knew of the Joining- what would happen to potential recruits if word got out about it?"

"We're supposed to-"

"We do whatever it takes to ensure that the Blight is stopped," Duncan said, "No matter the cost. That is the duty you must carry." Duncan turned towards the forest. "Take the bodies you two- I prepared a pyre...in case."

Alistair and Aedan picked up the two bodies of their comrades and carried them down the path to the pyre. It was nothing fancy, just a pile of wood laid out in a square manner. The wind howled through the trees.

Alistair whispered, "Duncan, are you sure the fire will stay up-"

"Then we'll light it again, and again, until the wind stops." Duncan fiddled with an amulet about his neck. In the middle was a small vial of blood. "They deserve a pyre."

Alistair nodded and laid Daveth's body on the wood. Aedan followed and placed Jory's next to Daveth. It was strange, seeing these two laying silently together. For the few days he had known them, Aedan had always seen them bickering. Now the two lay side by side, silent.

The heat of the torch blew in Aedan's face as Duncan held the torch out for him. "Light it," Duncan said, "and remember them."

With reluctant hand, Aedan lit the pyre with the torch. The fire seeped through the logs and wood, engulfing the bodies. A column of orange and red rose, burning bright in the night sky. Aedan watched fire consume the faces of Jory and Daveth.

"Let's wait...until the fire dies," Aedan muttered, "until they're ashes."

The three men shared a look, then turned back toward the raging flame.

They waited.


	6. Doubt

"Is it normal to feel queasy?" Aedan stuffed his face with another kabob. Despite his stomach churning, he couldn't stop eating. He needed more...more energy...more fuel. Like a bad hangover where he needed to replenish his nutrients.

"I don't cook that badly," said Alistair.

"I mean the Joining."

"Perfectly normal," said Alistair, who added as an afterthought, "For both cases- I do cook that badly."

Aedan watched the smoke lazily rise. Since the Joining, silence had replaced Jory and Daveth's bickering. In this newfound silence, Aedan could now hear the clash of drilling soldiers. Although the threat of the darkspawn horde loomed, the troops could do nothing until the darkspawn arrived, save for preparations. Each morning, Aedan would fall in line with the king's soldiers. Duncan had told him to join in their morning drills to acquaint himself with the men and woman he would be serving alongside. Aedan sparred with the soldiers, which he considered a light practice and stress reliever before the coming storm. Afternoons, however, were when Duncan drilled the Wardens.

* * *

As the other Wardens sparred during that day's training, Aedan frowned: there were too few Wardens, upon whom Cailan had placed his hopes and dreams on. Despite all the training they did, was there any amount sufficient for for this insurmountable task? There were no more than fifteen of them, including Aedan, Fergus, and Alistair, and only ten native to Ferelden.

"Any word on the Orlesian Wardens?" asked Alistair.

"None. It's a long trek from their headquarters in Orlais to even get to the borders of Ferelden. I doubt they've even reached there."

"So just us."

"Recruiting has not gone as planned. I've been working the past few years to at least get forty- but the Joining rarely goes well." Duncan shook his head and sighed. Noticing the idle Aedan, Duncan pulled Aedan to his feet. "Come on, time to spar."

The two proceeded to a small clearing, where upon arriving they drew their swords. The two circled each other with slow, methodical steps. Their eyes looked for any sudden movements, any indication of what might come next. They both stopped, looked each other in the eye, and without a word leapt at each other. Duncan's sword grazed Aedan's ear, drawing the tiniest drop of blood, whilst Aedan grazed Duncan's forearm.

"When fighting the darkspawn, you fight to kill," stated Duncan, "Do not waver like with humans."

"I know," said Aedan. He grunted in pain as his right arm swung at Duncan. The wounds were still sore.

"Do you?" Duncan inquired, tripping Aedan with a sweep to the leg. "Because I've seen how you fight. During sparring, at the castle, at the tournament-"

"What tournament?"

"I've personally sparred with Bann Abelard's son, and he can barely swing a sword without tripping over himself. I noticed that your father and the Bann were negotiating something in the stands, so it wasn't too hard to put two and two together."

Aedan wiped off his sweaty brow. "You were there?"

"Of course, I attend many major tournaments to seek out potential recruits."

"So you're complaining about my non-lethal fighting style after recruiting me because of how well I did in a non-lethal tournament?" Aedan parried Duncan's blow and pushed him back with a smirk. "Seems a little hypocritical."

"I did not choose you for killing ability-"

Duncan closed in, elbowed Aedan in the chest. Aedan blinked, and when his eyes opened again, his back lay on the ground, with Duncan's sword a hair breadths from his nose.

"But that does not mean that you don't need it to win this battle."

Duncan hoisted Aedan back up and tossed him his sword.

"You're used to simply beating your opponents until they comply, or until they're tired. They have do not have fear. They don't think. They will overpower you with superior numbers. That is the cold truth of the matter."

"And with this battle...do they outnumber us?"

Duncan went silent and shut his eyes for a moment to ponder. The warden-commander's fingers drummed against his sword hilt. He sighed, opened his eyes back up, and in a weary voice replied: "We have a meeting with the war council, if you are interested." Duncan turned around and spoke no more of the matter. Aedan rubbed at the back of his neck and glanced again at the few, meager wardens they had.

* * *

Later that night, as Aedan and Duncan approached the ruins of Ostagar, a heated argument between the Teyrn and Cailan welcomed the two wardens.

"Cailan, I must object to this foolhardy naivety that you join the soldiers on the front lines!" shouted Loghain.

Aedan grimaced at the sight of the king and Loghain screaming at each other across the war table. The torches lit what looked to be a pained expression on Loghain's face, his wrinkles contorted and his eyes baggy. Cailan too did not look any better. From afar, Aedan could always see him smiling and spouting off optimism. But close up, he looked as tired as the rest of the soldiers.

The two had not noticed the approach of either Duncan or Aedan. Several other troop leaders, as well as a rather wiry looking mage stood on the sides of the table. They took watch as the conflict unfurled before their eyes.

"I will be taking my place among my army, among the legend that we will forge today!" Cailan replied. He slammed his fist into the table, knocking down the pieces that Loghain had put up.

"Cailan, please, you're too valuable-"

"Or perhaps, Loghain, you'd like to wait for reinforcements from the Orlesian Grey Wardens?"

"You put entirely too much trust in these Grey Wardens, Cailan. They are not some magic spear that will end the Blight."

"Or maybe you're just afraid of the Orlesians? Hmmmm?" smirked Cailan. The king knew those words twisted Loghain's heart, and his eyes twinkled with malice.

Aedan had never seen a demon before, but he imagined that Loghain's face at that moment, with clenched teeth and an almost popping vein upon his forehead, resembled one. He gripped the table and calmed his shaking muscles. "I'm almost glad that Maric is dead- then he would not have to see his son hand over the country to the very people he worked to free it from." Loghain stared Cailan down, but the young king stared back with similar ferocity. Neither spoke a word of compromise, only silence.

Duncan coughed and the two leaders before him turned to Aedan and himself. "Greetings, your majesty, and to you as well Teyrn Loghain. I believe you had made finalizations regarding the battle plans?"

"We have." Cailan shot Loghain one last sour look. "Duncan, you and your Grey Wardens will join me and my personal army on the front lines. We will be sending the new recruit and Alistair up to the Tower of Ishal. Once the horde has engaged us sufficiently, then the two of them will signal Loghain, who will come in with the majority of the army." Cailan glared at Loghain once more, before turning back to Duncan and saying, "That is the final plan. As your king orders."

* * *

_A horn blared, signaling the five minute mark till the next match. Aedan squinted at cloudy spot on his armor, and polished it off with his armor rag. A hand grabbed his shoulder from the shadows. Aedan jumped and his armor clattered onto the floor. He shot around to see a hooded man sitting behind him._

_"Hey kid- ya, you."_

_"Uh..." stammered Aedan, who pondered his next words carefully. Had the man recognized he was not the Bann's son?_

_The rather dirty looking man's eyes searched for others in the vicinity. After a pause, the man inched towards Aedan. He held a large sack of coins that jingled each time he stepped. Once the man got close enough, Aedan smelled something foul on him. Body odor? No… Some weird herbal remedy._

_"Lose the next match against Ser Kyrael," he slithered. He motioned the bag in front of Adan, letting the jingle of coins fill his ears._

_"What?"_

_"Your father's in quite a bit of debt, right? Lose the next match against Ser Kyrael, and this money is yours."_

_"Do you seriously want to win so badly that you'd pay me-"_

_"Five hundred sovereigns."_

_Spit flew against the inside of his helmet as Aedan coughed wildly. He whipped his hand around at the man._

_"Don't ask questions, just take it. A lot is riding on this, so just take the damn money." The man thrust the bag of money in front of Aedan again, almost forcing it into his hands. He seemed nervous: there wasn't much time before the next match._

_The money jingled in Aedan's ear. Aedan gulped. It was a lot of money...for anybody. Including him. Aedan fidgeted with his sword hilt._

_After a moment's hesitation, Aedan sighed. "Sorry, but no."_

_"That's too bad," the man replied before pulling a dagger to Aedan's throat._

_Aedan's heart pounded as he registered his new situation. A line of sweat ran down his forehead; he had never had a dagger so close to him._

_"Now, get out there and lose. Or else you and your entire damn family is d-"_

_Aedan elbowed the man in the stomach, sending him staggering backwards. With one swift movement Aedan threw the man from behind him onto his back. He wrenched the dagger from the man's grip and held it against the man's throat._

_"Hi there," said Aedan, "mind telling me what the hell you're trying to do?"_

_The man spat onto Aedan's visor. "Sod off."_

_Aedan's hand trembled as he held the dagger to the man's throat. He took a glance at the man's belongings- daggers, poisons, bombs. This man was not looking to make a quick buck off setting up matches. He had something else in mind._

_"You're not going to kill me," chuckled the man, "you're too noble."_

_The last word dripped off of his tongue like grease. Aedan dropped the dagger and punched the man in the chin, knocking him out cold. "Thanks for the stuff," muttered Aedan. He took a nearby rope and tied up the man. As the man stuttered awake, Aedan stuffed a towel in his mouth and threw him into a nearby clothing chest. From the belongings that remained on the floor, Aedan pocketed several bombs and the sack of money._

_Aedan exited into the arena, the sun glinting off his visor as he looked around the crowd. Somewhere, among these cheering people, among the shadows, someone threatened Bann Aberlard's family._

_The challenger, Ser Kyrael, approached, towering over Aedan by a good foot. Did they really need me to throw the match? he thought. His knees buckled slightly; the man held a very, very large mace. Aedan eyed it over again. A very painful mace with sharp spikes._

_As the crowds roared, the announcer raised his hands and brought down the flag. "Let the match...begin!"_

_With no hesitation the opponent took his mace and swung it downwards at Aedan. Panicking, Aedan jumped to the side and rolled to safety. He had been distracted by his thoughts, but he knew now how to proceed with the situation._

_Aedan's opponent swung again, and Aedan fought against every reflex in his body and stood still. The mace hit him in the side, sending him sprawling to the ground._

_He only had a few moments, but Aedan's eyes surveyed the crowd, looking for a different reaction. Not the nobles who stood up and roared with excitement. Not his father who gripped the side of the stands with worry. Anything out of the ordinary._

_His opponent's shadow fell over him, and as the foot was about to strike his stomach, Aedan rolled to the side, sweeping the leg as he scrambled onto his feet._

_His eyes checked again. Some were cheering for his recovery- his father among them. If the one's threatening the Bann's family hid somewhere in the crowds, they'd be close by to the Bann and his father. Aedan spotted a brooding man, a few paces from the Bann, with unkempt hair eyeing him. In his hands he held a knapsack close. He didn't look like a noble, and didn't have the submissive demeanor of a servant. Could this be him? Only way to find out._

_It continued back and forth- sometimes with Ser Kyrael landing a blow, other times with Aedan striking. Each time Aedan searched the stands, but the only suspicious element was the man next to the Bann._

_He couldn't confirm it through, and he had little time left. Aedan knew that if the match carried on any longer, the Bann would be at risk. The mace came from the side this time, and Aedan forced himself still. He clenched his eyes shut and cringed in anticipation of the oncoming blow._

_This is going to-_

_As the weapon hit his side, Aedan vision blurred and the wind was knocked from his lungs. He crumpled like paper onto the ground. He could have stayed up and resisted, but he threw himself to the ground to make it look real. Ser Kyrael hovered over Aedan, pausing before his next blow. Aedan pretended to meekly raise his hand and groaned, "Forfeit."_

_Aedan watched the man close to the Bann smirk, get up, and exit the stands._

_A rather fat looking noble descended down into the arena, holding up the hand of his opponent in victory. "My lords and ladies, we have ourselves a champion!" The crowd erupted in clapping and cheering, whilst Aedan picked himself up. He scrutinized Ser Kyrael who waved back at the crowd. He knew about the setup. He had paused when Aedan had faked his defeat. He had known that his opponent would throw the match._

_Maybe it was just simple money. Whoever had bet on Ser Kyrael would be quite happy right now. But if money had been the issue, why were they willing to pay Aedan off so handsomely? No amount of earnings made off a simple bet could offset the cost of the bribe._

_Whatever the case, Ser Kyrael had the answer._

* * *

"Men!" shouted Cailan, breaking the murmers of the assembled army. He stood upon the risers, his hand outstretched towards the sky. With his golden armor, and the hazy glow of the fire against him, he resembled a burning ember amongst the pale night. The soldiers filed into their rows, the entirety of the army assembling to see the king they so adored, flocking like moths to the flame.

"Here approaches the darkspawn horde. Do not tremble! Do not fear them! They are but flesh and blood, but mindless creatures. The might of Thedas has beaten them back four times before!"

Men cheered, raising their swords to their glorious king.

"Today, we will make a legend. This day will go down in the history books, passed down from generation from generation, when the might of Ferelden made their stand against darkspawn. Fight for glory!" said Cailan. He raised his sword into the air and grinned. Those who did not already have theirs in the air rose their weapons as well. Aedan saw only a sea of sword, lances, and bows, all at the ready. All ready to die for the king they so believed in.

The rest of the words hazed by in Aedan's mind. He watched the soldiers cling onto Cailan's every word, eager smiles plastered across their faces. For all that Loghain had said about the king, Cailan could inspire his men. While the other soldiers clapped their hands and roared with excitement, Aedan wringed his hands. The scene of the bickering between Loghain and Cailan repeated in his mind.

With a grimace, he rubbed the wound on his right arm, drumming his fingers against the bandages.


	7. Fight

The orange embers of Duncan's camp faded. The Wardens made final preparations. Armor clinked against each other. Swords slid into scabbards. No one exchanged handshakes and hugs, unlike the king's army. These few men and women need not trade final words. While Alistair seemed relatively inexperienced, the other Wardens radiated a certain wisdom and ferocity. Their battle-grizzled faces and dented armor stood out even in the dark of night.

"I don't understand why we need two Wardens, Wardens of all people, lighting a fire in the tower!" said Alistair, after Duncan had explained to Alistair the plan. Alistair's arms waved about as he ranted and the Warden-Commander sighed at his junior.

"It's the way things are, Alistair. This job is essential. Without the beacon lit-"

"Yes, yes, no backup army, Blight kills us all, fine fine." Alistair sighed and grumbled. He held up a finger. "But if the king asks me to wear a dress and dance the Remy, I'm out."

"That could be a great distraction," chuckled Aedan, "ain't nothing darkspawn love better than dancing."

Duncan rubbed his temples. "Alright you two, you need to get to the tower. Now, preferably."

"Righto. We'll see you on the battlefield, Duncan." Alistair walked off towards his equipment to strap in. No goodbyes.

Aedan turned to Duncan. "We'll get it done," he said. He picked up a standard issue sword and shield and strapped them onto his back.

"Keep him safe," replied Duncan. For the first time, Aedan the aged man's face wrinkle in worry.

"I will."

* * *

Guts splattered onto Aedan's face. His blade skewered a darkspawn's beating heart. As the life ebbed from it and blood trickled down the sword, Aedan felt the pulse deaden through his sword.

I wonder, what makes this life so different from that of a human, he thought, the heartbeat is all the same. The sentiment dissipated as another darkspawn charged at him. It's revolting, rotted skin sent shivers down Aedan's spine. Aedan wasn't sure he'd ever get used to fighting these abominations, but perhaps he wouldn't have to. Perhaps Cailan's plan would work after all, and they'd end the Blight tonight.

"Well, our job has just gotten harder," grunted Aedan. He dodged a pike thrust then sliced off the head of his attacker. He stared farther out at the darkspawn swarming all about the tower courtyard and grimaced. The darkspawn had overrun the Tower of Ishal. At the very top lay the beacon. When lit, the full brunt of the army would assault the darkspawn.

Gregory howled, sprinting at his opponent's leg before proceeding to maul them to bits. "Sadly, your dog is a lot more useful then some soldiers I know," laughed Alistair, who wiped fresh blood off of his splintmail, "and better looking as well."

"Is this the time to be making jokes?" Aedan pulled his sword out of the darkspawn. With no more in the immediate vicinity, he paused to catch his breath.

"I find that quips during battle keep things fresh."

"I find they make your kill count smaller." Aedan pointed to the numerous darkspawn bodies strewn about him. He glanced over at Alistair's two kills and smirked before striding towards the tower.

"Ha ha, very funny," grouched Alistair. But from the corner of his eye he could see Aedan chuckle at his joke. "You know you love them!" shouted Alistair. Aedan smiled. They helped distract him, he couldn't deny that.

Aedan tried to block out the sounds of the battle of Ostagar. Not the sound of the darkspawn charging. No, the ones that hurt the most were far off. Screams of men. Desperate pleas of mercy. Swords breaking. The army would fall one by one, unless Aedan and Alistair did their job.

He pulled open the doors of the tower. The ancient hinges groaned as they moved. Inside the torches of the darkspawn lit a foreboding battlefield. Darkspawn snarled as the moonlight trickled through the doorway. Heavy doors slammed behind him. The sounds of the battle outside vanished. Sword drawn, Aedan strode forward. He had work to do.

* * *

_"Message for you, Ser," squeaked Aedan in his best imitation of an elven servant as he could. Ser Kyrael did not answer back from behind his door. He did a meek knock against the door. "Ser, I have quite a many a duty to attend to, or else I'll get the stick."_

_No answer. Ser Kyrael was either not there or just a complete ass. "Well, I tried subtlety." Aedan stepped back two paces, then kicked the door in. "Ser Kyrael, I've got some-"_

_Much to Aedans surprise, Ser Kyrael's muffled voice cried out against his gag. The knight lay in the corner gagged and wrapped up._

_"Shit." Aedan tore the rag out of Ser Kyrael's mouth. "What happened?" he barked. He didn't know how much longer he had, and didn't have time to_ _fully untie Ser Kyrael._

 _"Some bastards knocked me out right before I was to compete!" cried Ser Kyrael, "The outrage! I bet those rapscallions just didn't want me to win. Who would stoop so low-" The knight wriggled against his bonds. He squirmed about rather_ _annoyingly as Aedan attempted to free him._

_"Wait a second. So whoever was just at your match wasn't you?"_

_"They posed as me? Oh the absolute horror- what a disgrace I must have looked like!"_

_"You won." Aedan rubbed his forehead, his patience growing thin._

_The knight paused, then gave an approving nod."...As I would have expected from someone posing as me."_

_"Oh for the love of," groaned Aedan, "what the hell did he look like?"_

_"I don't know, some scruffy looking vagrant-"_

_Aedan gagged Ser Kyrael again, much to Aedan's relief and Ser Kyrael's indignation._

_"_ _Absolutely no help at all." Aedan sprinted towards the stands. Perhaps the Bann was still there. When he turned around the corner, Aedan skidded to a stop before a familiar face- his father._

_"Aedan, I've been looking everywhere for you. What the hell was that? If I didn't know better, it looked like you threw the match!" Bryce said, his brow furrowed in confusion._

_"Father, listen_ _to me," said Aedan, "someone who thought I was the Bann's son tried to bribe me."_

_"And?" asked his father, "did you take it?"_

_"_ _Of course not. But after that, he threatened to kill the Bann if I didn't comply."_

_"Maker! We need to find the Bann."_

_"You find the Bann. He's not the main_ _objective, or else they wouldn't have spared his life. I think whoever was posing as Ser Kyrael has something to do with this."_

_"Wait, someone's posing as Ser Kyrael?"_

_"Yes, the real one i_ _s tied up in his room. Do you know where the one who fought me earlier is?"_

_"There's a reception in the Bann's main manor, where King Maric is to award Ser Kyr-"_

_"Shit!" The young man sprinted down the hallway to the reception hall with everything he had. No time to strap out of my armor, he thought._

_Time to be a hero._

* * *

_"Maric, tell me, when the hell does this thing end?" groused Loghain. As involved in the government Loghain was, nevertheless some functions never failed to annoy him. He found these little pretend fights these knights had pointless. Ferelden had grown complacent. They had forgotten what battle meant. Loghain grumbled at two knights sipping wine. Knights. A mockery of what they once were._

_"Patience old friend. I_ _just have to present this award, then we can be back at Denerim by sunset," said Maric. He waved at young noble lady who had smiled at him. She blushed and scurried off._

_"Yes yes, where I have to take care of everything while you're gone on your ship. Again."_

_"Lighten up Loghain," Maric patted his hand on Loghain's shoulder. "Nothing urgent is happening anyways. Plus, I left you a nice scotch in the palace stores."_

_Loghain raised his eyebrows._

_"Fifteen years," said Maric._

_"Fifteen years?" Loghain would never admit it, but he smiled_ _a bit. He did love a good scotch. He leaned back in his chair and chuckled. Perhaps a little peace wouldn't hurt._

 _"Ah, my lord, shall we begin the award ceremony?" asked Bann Abelard. He eyed around for Aedan, who was nowhere to_ _be seen. He was however rather pleased with how far he had gotten in the tournament. All the nobles were gossiping about how well his son had done._

 _"Yes, good idea," said Cailan. "And_ _by the way, I had no idea your son was such a terrific swordsman. Perhaps he and Cailan should spar? My son tends to think he'll fight well even without practice."_

_"Ah, yes, sure," sputtered Bann Abelard._

_The guardsmen stepped aside to form an aisle for the winner of the tournament to approach, pushing back other attendees to the sides of the room._

_"Ser Kyrael, please step forward."_

_The armored knight kneeled down on one knee, bowing before the king. The familiar noise of a sword being drawn from the scabbard echoed in Loghain's ears. Years of battle experience forced his hand to his scabbard. But years of peace slowed him. The fake Ser Kyrael ripped off his helmet as he lunged, sword drawn. Loghain reached his hand outwards to block the path. The look on his face painted what was on his mind. He knew he wouldn't make it in time._

_And in front of his eyes, Loghain saw the fake knight tackled mid-stab to the ground by another. The two armored men scuffled on the ground. Aedan uppercut with his leg straight into his opponent's face. As the fake Ser Kyrael stumbled backwards, he_

_threw a small bomb to the ground. The vial shattered, sending smoke spraying everywhere._

_"Guards, find him!" coughed Loghain through the grey haze._

_The smoke was thick and nauseous, leaving the guards stumbling for any sign of the would be assassin. However Aedan was close enough to the assassin that he could still see him go for the door. He gagged on the gas, his vision blurring._

_"No you don't." Aedan hurled a nearby shield it with all his strength. It struck the fleeing man in the back, causing him to stumble. The assassin turned back round. "Let's have a proper match this time," seethed the knight, clenching his sword._

_"_ _Gladly," said Aedan. Their swords clashed in a blur of steel. Their helms collided as both swords pushed against one another. The assassin shoved Aedan off and lunged at him. Aedan parried the blow and took two steps backwards. He whipped the bomb he had stolen right at the attacker. It bounced off his armor harmlessly to the ground. Aedan looked at the bomb, back his attacker, then back at the bomb. "...Shit, is that not how it works?"_

_Aedan's foe lept forward and struck his arm. Aedan winced and dropped his sword. The knight held his sword to Aedan's throat. "You're not very good at fighting, are you? Took me all of five seconds to disarm you," laughed the assassin with a steely tone, "and your helm won't stop me like gutting you like the pig you are."_

_Aedan backed away with his hands in air. His eyes darted around for an escape route, anything. "I'm so very hurt."_

_"Shut the hell up and stop moving."_

_"Let's be honest. A sword to the throat isn't something you try to lean into."_

_"Shut up," the man growled, "and stop moving. Or else."_

_Aedan stepped to the right. The man followed. "Sorry," grinned Aedan. With a roar Loghain lept from the smog and strangled the man in a hold. The man gasped for breath as Loghain_ _breathlessly fumed, the teyrn's face contorted in pure rage. The assassin's hands clawed at Loghain's arms, then went limp. He collapsed to the ground unconscious._

_Loghain wiped his brow. "Thank you, boy, for leading him towards me. I'm surprised you saw me through the smoke."_

_Aedan shrugged and scratched the back of his neck. "What can I say? I'm a clever man."_

_Loghain scowled. "Not clever enough. You're supposed to shake the bomb first." Loghain picked up the untriggered bomb and threw it back to Aedan._

_"Oh." Aedan shrunk a little in place._

_"Idiot," muttered Loghain._

* * *

"Wasn't this tower supposed to be empty?" Alistair kicked aside yet another darkspawn corpse.

"Weren't you the one complaining we wouldn't see any action?" The smell of darkspawn permeated the entire tower, and Aedan's head throbbed from their presences.

"Ha...I guess you're right."

"Excuse me, why aren't we running away from the darkspawn?" asked the mage. Alistair and Aedan had found the man backed in a corner on the verge of being eaten alive by darkspawn. He was only too happy to accompany them. He was a little less happy to accompany them upstairs.

Aedan silenced the mage with a sharp look. He hugged the corner whilst the darkspawn turned their backs, making his way to a nearby ballista. He peeked over the ballista. Nine, no ten genlocks. Four hurlocks in a group to the left. Worth a shot.

Green and black swirled in a vial as Aedan shook it. Aedan lobbed it over to the darkspawn. A thick toxic gas exploded from the vial, sending the genlocks sprawling and coughing. A second bomb crashed to the ground. This time a burst of fire finished all the genlocks, igniting the noxious gas. The hurlocks hissed at Aedan and brandished their weapons. Aedan responded by slamming his fist down on the ballista. The wooden frame shook and shot a bolt into two of the hurlocks. Aedan leaped over the ballista and hurled his sword into the closest hurlock head. The last one lunged at him. Steel flashed, and the monster crumbled. Aedan stood over the corpse holding Nan's knife.

"Maker," breathed Alistair. Aedan strapped his knife back in. "What?" said Aedan. Alistair stared over at Aedan's massacre. Blood dripped from the walls. Burning carcasses lay scattered. "Have you always been like that?" asked Alistair.

Aedan shrugged. "Had a good teacher."

At last the group reached the final set of stairs. "The beacon should be up here," the templar said, "so we should-" Alistair spotted blood streaming down the stairs. "-hurry."

Aedan sprinted up the final steps and kicked open the door. Their eyes followed the river of blood to the middle of the room. There, bones crunching between its teeth, an ogre sat. Its head perked up at the creaking door.

"How the hell did it even get up the stairs?" croaked the mage. "It shouldn't even be able to fit through the stairway!"

The behemoth turned towards them and growled, entrails spilling from its jagged teeth. It threw down its dinner and beat its chest, roaring towards the sky.

"Well, shit." Aedan gulped. He turned to his fellow Warden while the floor rumbled beneath them. "Say, did the Grey Wardens ever give you a lecture on how to kill an ogre? Because they haven't even given me a training manual or anything."

"Bradley, one of the senior Wardens, told me a wonderful piece of advice: stab it till it dies."

"That's helpful."

"I said the same thing."

The ogre took three giant strides towards the group. With each the mage trembled more and more. "Maker help us."

"Alistair, protect the mage- we'll need his firepower!" Aedan sprinted forward and slid between the ogre's legs, drawing his attention. The ogre's feet smashed behind him. Bits of rubble clanged against Aedan's helm.

Whilst the mage fired elemental bolts at the gore, Aedan kited the giant. "Come on, bring it!" Aedan banged his sword against his shield. A low grumble sent a chill through Aedan's spine. From the corner of his eye he saw the behemoth's fist approach, but too late to dodge: the ogre swatted Aedan against the wall. Aedan groaned as two ribs cracked, but he had to keep going. He trembled and pushed himself off the ground, just in time for the ogre to return. The ogre slammed its fist down. Aedan sidestepped then stabbed the hand. He turned only to see the ogre's foot rushing toward him. Aedan flew into a pillar. Shattered armor clattered to the ground. Aedan wiped his bloodied mouth and moved into a defensive stance. His shield stood between him and certain death.

Just as the ogre charged again, Gregory ripped at the ogre's leg. The ogre growled and shook its leg back and forth. After several tries, Gregory was thrown against the tower walls. The ogre stomped towards Alistair and the mage. Despite cowering behind a pillar, the mage nodded at Alistair. "Aedan, now!" shouted Alistair. The templar's shield crumbled beneath a blow from the ogre, and the force threw him to the ground.

Aedan's sword alit with a hot blaze of red and orange. Aedan gazed upon the mage's hands, alit with the same color as the fire. His lips silently moved as though muttering something. "Now would be a great time to help!" shouted Alistair.

Aedan spat blood at his feet. "On the way." He rushed at the ogre's legs, sinking his sword deep within it's tendons. The ogre screamed in agony. The entire room shook. Aedan's head rattled against his helm. The behemoth whirled around to swat Aedan once more. However, Aedan had already retreated to a rather tall pile of crates.

His body shook with each approaching stomp. With several leaps Aedan reached the top of the crates. The ogre struck at the crates. Aedan kicked off the wall. Stone flew as the two collided and the ogre fell to the ground. Aedan drove his sword right at the heart and he could smell the burning of flesh. Again he stabbed. The ogre shifted beneath him. Again. Again. Again.

The ogre lay still. Aedan panted heavily. He smelt the burnt meat, rank and rotten. He coughed blood against his helmet. "Still got a job to do," he muttered. He rolled off the body and made his way towards the beacon.

"Aedan, I got this-"

"I'm already here damn it, let me have this," said Aedan with a grim smile. He stumbled over to the fireplace. He stabbed it with his still burning sword. The beacon exploded with flame. The fire traveled upwards to the top of the tower, which alit with a burning fury. He leaned against the tower wall and wheezed, clutching at his ribs. "Let's get down there. The rest of the wardens will need all the help they can get."

"They're...retreating," stammered the mage.

"What the hell did you just say?"

The mage pointed out the window. Aedan staggered over. From there, he saw it. The torches of Loghain's troops, the brunt of the army, falling back.

"No," uttered Aedan. The king, the king's army, the Wardens, and-

"Duncan!" screamed Alistair, who ran towards the doorway. The zip of arrows rung through the air. Alistair howled in agony. A darkspawn arrow protruded from his shoulder. Blood trickled from his knee as well. A familiar hiss filled the room as the darkspawn poured in. Aedan threw his helm into the crowd surrounding Alistair, drawing the darkspawn's attention. The arrows barraged Aedan's body. Aedan staggered backwards. His sword clattered to the ground. His knees fell.

"Loghain," gurgled Aedan though the blood in his mouth. The darkspawn stood over him. Aedans vision blurred and swirled around him. A sword was to his throat. A hurlock smiled down at him with razor sharp teeth. Both grotesque hands wrapped around the hilt. He lifted the sword upwards.

Aedan closed his eyes.


	8. Truth

_"And this is the fine young man who saved me?" The king stood alongside Loghain and Aedan, observing the guards apprehending the assassin. They'd be shipping the man, shackled and gagged, to Denerim for an interrogation. While the guards hadn't determined the assassin's motives, the king's safety was their top priority. Now an armada filled the room and closed the area off. The king seemed rather casual about all this; he smiled and shook Aedan's hand in his own, even as guards surrounded him and dogged his every step. Perhaps assassinations occurred often for him._

_"It was no problem." Aedan coughed into his gauntlet, trying to warp his voice. "Sorry, I have a cold." Aedan still had his visor on. As far as anyone could tell, he was Bann Abelard's son. He adjusted the visor more to hide his eyes._

_"So you won the tournament and saved my life? While sick? Thank the Maker for men like you."_

_"Yes, well, I'm just going to make my way back to my room. Having some-"_

_Aedan leaned into Maric's ear._

_"Bowel distress."_

_Maric chuckled and shook Aedan's hand once more. "Take care of yourself then lad. I have a ship to catch."_

_Loghain turned to Aedan. "Young man. What you did was reckless. Foolish," he said. Loghain walked past Aedan in departure, but not before patting him once on the shoulder._

_"Good job."_

_At that moment, Aedan considered ripping off his helmet, revealing his true identity with a brilliant grin. He could go to the taverns, and people would throw him in the air and bring him a full keg of ale. Women would swoon as he walked by. Perhaps they'd even have a ceremony in his honor. The glory was his to claim._

_Loghain passed. Aedan's helmet remained. One by one, the nobles all cleared out of the reception room. Aedan glanced left to right. Nobody was around. He turned his back to the doorway and zipped to the food table. He removed the helmet, letting the air flow against his sweaty hair and face. His hands grasped a croissant and stuffed it into his mouth._

_"This is the best croissant I've ever had," muttered Aedan to himself. Over the sound of his chewing and his eyes focusing on the cheeses, he did not notice Duncan and Maric watching from the open doorway. The two silently departed._

_"You knew that he wasn't the Bann's son, right?" said Duncan as he and the king walked._

_"Duncan, I'm not stupid," chuckled Maric._

_"What's the boy's name?"_

_"I believe that is Aedan Cousland."_

_"Hmmm." Duncan stroked his beard in contemplation and glanced once back at the young lad stuffing his face._

_"A potential recruit for your Wardens?" asked Maric._

_Duncan smiled to himself. "Perhaps."_

_Awhile later, with the hazy orange of the sun dipping below the horizon, Aedan sat by the riverbank throwing rocks. As he watched the water ripple, he pondered the final matter to take care of: the bribe money he had stolen from his would be attacker. Should he turn it over to the authorities? Or perhaps keep it for himself?_

_"Hey," came a voice from behind. Aedan looked over his shoulder. A gangly young man about his age smiled at him. He was dressed in neat, tailored clothing, betraying his status as a noble. Unlike the others however, he did not have such a pompus demeanor. He sat down next to Aedan. He picked up a rock and skipped it across the water._

_"I'm Yates. Bann Abelard's son. The one you impersonated today?"_

_"Nice to finally meet you," said Aedan. He quietly rolled a small stone between his fingers._

_"Thanks...for what you did."_

_"You're going to be knee deep in woman you know," chuckled Aedan, who slapped Yates on the back. Yates weakly laughed._

_"You think so?"_

_"I was already down in the bar listening to some of the stories. Apparently you and Loghain fought off a small armada with your bare hands."_

_"I envy you, you know."_

_"Me? Don't worry, I can teach you to fight if you need to." After the words left his mouth, Aedan scratched at his bruised and rubbed at his neck where the assassin had held the tip of his sword. "Actually, maybe I ought to get someone to teach me."_

_"Not that. I saw your father in the stands. When you almost got so badly beaten by that one opponent, he walked over with a smile. No look of disappointment. My father has never believed in me. Not once."_

_The look on Yates face wrenched Aedan's heart. Aedan patted the young man on the back. "Come on, there's got to be something you're good at."_

_Yates sighed. "You'd laugh."_

_"I promise I won't."_

_Yates rubbed his face, taking a deep breath in. "I want to be a baker."_

_Aedan waited for the real answer in silence. After staring at the stern expression on Yate's face, he realized that the young noble was in fact serious._

_"Really?"_

_"I love the smell of bread rising in the oven, the feel of kneading bread in your hands. You remember the reception? Guess who baked the pastries and the bread."_

_"That was you?" Aedan still craved those buttery, crispy croissants. The fact Yates, the son of a noble, could do that amazed him._

_"Yeah. But my father says that being a baker is a lowly job that would disgrace our family name."_

_"Fuck him then. Go be a baker," said Aedan, whipping a rock straight across the river._

_"It's not like I can just run away and become a baker," sighed Yates, "I have no money of my own besides my father's. With an apprentice baker's wages, I couldn't even afford a wooden crate as a home."_

_"You wouldn't starve at least. Lot's of bread," joked Aedan._

_Yates chuckled. "Yeah, I guess so."_

_The coin purse Aedan had stolen earlier felt heavier. "What if...I gave you some start up funds."_

_"How much?"_

_"Five hundred sovereigns," said Aedan, who pocketed one sovereign before dropping the bag into Yates hands. The young noble gaped, dumbstruck._

_"I can't-"_

_"Yes you can."_

_Aedan closed Yates' hands around the bag, grinning._

_"You make a damn good croissant."_

_Yates looked down at the bag, and back at Aedan. "Thank you.."_

_"Just take it before I change my mind."_

_"Thank you! You're my hero!" cried Yates, who shook Aedan's hand up and down, almost pulling it off. "I've got to pack, and I need a escape plan, and-"_

_His voice tapered off. Yates had run back into the castle. Aedan smiled as he made his way to the tavern. Inside, the bar clamored with talk. Ale spilled from tables. Men laughed till no conversation could be heard. Aedan smiled and took a seat. "Can I get you something?" asked the bartender._

_"Would this get me a glass of scotch?" Aedan flipped the last sovereign into the bartender's hand. The bearded man handed him a filled glass._

_"No ale for you?"_

_Aedan chuckled as he took a lingering sip of his drink. "I think I earned a nice drink for myself today."_

* * *

Soft, lithe fingers traced against Aedan's chest. His eyes cracked open.

"There we are. I wondered when you'd awaken."

He sat up against the bedframe. The girl from the wilds stood in the corner. Stone scrapped against wood as she ground something in a bowl.

"Morrigan...right?"

"Hmm- you're faring better than the other one. As soon as he awoke he embraced the standard templar paranoia and shouted at my mother and I to stay away." Morrigan snorted and poured a liquid out of a pitcher into a cup. "Your dog, by the way, is napping by the fireplace. He has been far more reasonable than Alistair, though I question whether you trained him in any way, shape, or form."

"Alistair or the dog?"

Morrigan made a noise akin to a laugh, but the expression on her face resembled a sneer.

Aedan attempted to get up, but the Morrigan pushed the wobbling warden back down. He groaned as pain shot through his shoulder. "Do you know what happened with the army? With Loghain?"

"Your army is dead. Your king is dead. Their bodies litter the battlefield, and the darkspawn swarm the area. Feeding I believe. As for this Loghain fellow, I do not even know who he is."

"You don't know who Loghain is? The Hero of-" Aedan silenced himself. The title soured on his tongue. He rubbed his eyes, still woozy from waking up. "Sorry. I didn't mean to sound rude. You have done much for me."

Morrigan brought the cup to Aedan's mouth. Aedan sipped, expecting water, only to find a chalky, grey substance inside. He coughed and gagged at first, but Morrigan tilted the cup further forward, forcing a steady stream of the substance down his throat.

"Much more civil than your friend at least. Perhaps he took a few too many blows to the head. But I suspect he has always been so...addled."

She scooped up a greenish mixture from a bowl on the table. Aedan watched while she unwrapped layers of bandages from his chest. Although it had taken several arrows, only small scrapes and scabs remained.

"Your wounds have healed well. Mother's magic is quite effective," the witch said. Aedan detected tint of envy in her voice. The woman rubbed the ointment on his wounds. Aedan winced. Whatever the mixture was, it burned like nothing else, and as the smell wafted up to his face Aedan wrinkled his nose.

While Morrigan continued to apply the ointment, Aedan peered over at his right arm. The scars remained. "What about my scars on my right arm? They're recent. Couldn't fix them?"

"They wouldn't heal. That took Mother by surprise," smiled Morrigan, "Ah, to see that crack in her facade again."

"Any idea why they wouldn't?"

"I've heard an old wives' tale that scars with strong feelings will stay strong." Morrigan's hands traced the jagged scars that jutted down his arm. "Do you want them gone?"

"No."

"Good. They add character." Morrigan tossed him a ragged shirt, which he pulled over his head. She nodded towards the door. "Tis time for you to leave."

"Already? Sure you don't want me to cause more trouble for your mother?"

"Hmm, as appealing that sounds, apparently she wishes to speak to you."

As Aedan picked himself off the bed, he scoured the room for his belongings. "Did you manage to salvage any of my gear?" He avoided touching anything else, as it seemed impolite to just peruse through a stranger's home. It was a meager hut anyhow.

"Only what you had on you." Morrigan pointed at a chest by the foot the bed. Another one lay underneath the desk, but Aedan payed it no attention. "There is armor we took off bandits a while back in the corner. I doubt a ragged shirt shall provide you much protection."

Aedan peered into the chest. Nan's knife glinted at the bottom, leaning against his knapsack. He picked up the two with his hands. The jingle of the sword shards in his bag rung against his ears. It had become familiar to him now. The sound soothed his head.

Once he had finished strapping his gear, Aedan gazed into her intoxicating yellow eyes, giving her the best smile he could muster at this point. He had been betrayed, beaten, broken, but he still had his manners. "Thank you."

Morrigan crossed her arms across her chest and glanced to the side. "I...You are welcome." She pushed open the door to reveal the decrepit trees of the Wilds. The noxious swamp smell greeted Aedan as he exited the hut. Alistair sat by the toxic lakeside. With bags under his eyes, Alistair hunched forward while gazing into the distance. It reminded Aedan of himself only a few days ago: catatonic and silent. Aedan hesitated a moment before calling out, "Alistair."

The templar whipped around. "You're alive," breathed Alistair, "Thank the Maker!" He bear-hugged his fellow Warden. Aedan widened his eyes at the sudden display of affection, but returned the man's hug and chuckled, "Perhaps we should thank Morrigan's mother instead. She did rescue us."

"Yes, if not for her, we might have been two more corpses in that tower."

"Do not talk about me as if I am not here," creaked the old woman, stepping out of the shadows of her hut. Aedan jumped a bit; he hadn't seen the woman just standing there. Her presence still unnerved him, as she wore that unsettling smile from before.

Aedan bowed to her. "I'm sorry...we just never caught your name."

The woman's lips curled up. "You may call me Flemeth."

Both Aedan and Alistair did a double take. "The Flemeth...of the legends?", whispered Alistair, "So...you are a Witch of the Wilds then!"

Aedan remembered his mother telling him the story by his bedside: ages ago, Flemeth of Highever, once wife to Bann Conobar, as well as a secret apostate, fell in love with a young poet. The two ran off and fled from the Bann. One day, the Bann sent word he was dying and wished to see Flemeth one last time. She came, but it was a trick. The Bann imprisoned her and slew her lover. In Flemeth's grief, trapped in a desolate tower, a demon came to her and offered the chance for vengeance. She accepted the demon's offer and became an abomination. She slaughtered the Bann and his men, then fled into the Wilds. The legends said she stole men from the Kocari to sire daughters and lead them against the Alamarri tribes, until the hero Cormac came and burned them all.

So what was the woman before him? At the very least an apostate, given her extensive healing abilities, but could she be an abomination as well? Demon melded with flesh?

"So what if I am? I saved you two, didn't I?"

"She's right. If she wanted to have killed us by now, she would have. Besides-" Aedan recalled Loghain as he said, "Stories hardly ever hold the truth."

He looked at Flemeth. She admired a skyborne hawk.

"Why did you save us?" Aedan asked.

"Well, we cannot have all the Grey Wardens of Fereldan dying, now can we? Fereldan must stand united against the coming Blight, and it will need the Wardens to do so."

"We're hardly united, thanks to Loghain!" Alistair clenched his fist. He paced in a circle, kicking at the dirt as he did so. "Why would Loghain do something like this?"

"Men's hearts hold shadows greater than any tainted creature." Her voice softened, but a bitter tone rumbled in Flemeth's tone.

Despite Alistair's question, Aedan could think of several reasons Loghain did what he did. Perhaps a power grab, or maybe he thought he could stop the blight better than the Wardens. Or perhaps he didn't want his men to die in a foolish battle.

Aedan never thought Loghain would stoop so low as betrayal, nor commit it on such a large scale. But then again, Loghain was only a man.

"But your foolish politician does not comprehend the true threat behind the Blight," said Flemeth.

Alistair stopped pacing. He glanced at Aedan and Flemeth. "The archdemon," said Alistair, "Loghain thinks of the darkspawn as just another army you can outmaneuver...But it's a horde, not an army, and that monster is at the head."

Aedan had only heard fables and stories about the Archdemon. Winged, corrupted, and as deadly as several armies, the creature inhabited the nightmares of many a man and woman. To defeat it seemed insurmountable, and that was even with an army of grey wardens. "Alistair, do you know how to defeat the Archdemon?"

"No, I'm a junior Warden, they hadn't divulged that information to me yet. Duncan-"

The templar paused, his voice trembling. Alistair hid his face to hide a stream of tears. "Maker, it's hopeless. We don't know how to kill the Archdemon, Ferelden has abandoned us, and we don't even have any troops to stop the Blight," he mumbled.

Troops.

Aedan's eyes widened. His hands fumbled within his pack. Ancient, weathered, and dusty against his fingers, he held in his hands the ancient treaties of long ago. "The treaties. You knew," breathed Aedan to Flemeth.

Flemeth gave a flamboyant bow and cackled. "I assumed the worst would happen. Unlike many men in Thedas, I choose to think ahead."

"What?" said Alistair, who cleaned his face with his hand.

"The ancient treaties which Flemeth kept safe." Aedan thumbed through the papers. "Here's one for Orzammar. And another with the Dalish. And one more from the mages."

Alistair's face beamed with hope. "Of course! The treaties! We could go to each of these groups and ask for troops!"

"It might not be that easy. Loghain no doubt will be doing damage control, twisting what happened in the battle to his favor." Aedan gripped the treaties as he said the next words. "We need to take him down."

"We could go to Arl Eamon for political help."

"The Arl of Redcliffe?"

"I know him personally, he's a good man. He will help us. I know he will."

"I may be old, but dwarves, mages, elves, this Arl Eamon, this sounds like an army to me," said Flemeth. "An army that could take on the Archdemon."

"So can we do this? Go to Redcliffe and these other places and build an army?" asked Alistair. He looked at Aedan for the answer. Aedan was puzzled as to why Alistair, the senior of the two, would think Aedan would have the answer. So he gave the best one he could.

"I don't know," muttered Aedan, mulled in thought.

"Now now, no need for doubt young man," said Flemeth, "Go build your army." She smiled and with disdain and mockery chuckled, "Who knows, perhaps at the end of it all, they'll tell tales of the dashing Hero of Ferelden." Her eyes bored into Aedan's.

She's right to be disdainful, thought Aedan. Because at the end of the day, what had these so called heroes of legend done?

Duncan, who killed an innocent man without a second thought.

Loghain, who had betrayed all the Warden's and the King's army.

The king, who had led his army into a suicidal mission for the sake of glory.

Howe, the uncle he had looked up to and loved, slaughtered his family.

The stories that Aedan had grown up on were just that. Stories. Fantasies that held no truth in reality. The truth was as Flemeth had said. Men's hearts held shadows greater than any tainted creature. Everything Aedan held dear had burned away. His family and home had been engulfed by the flames of envious men. His idols burned away by the truth. He had no more heroes to rely on. All Aedan wielded was a kitchen knife and a broken sword.

The noble with a kitchen knife, betrayed by the greatest hero Ferelden had known. It sounded like a bad story.

A chuckle escaped his lips.

Flemeth's eyes alit. She cackled. Aedan smiled back at her and cackled back. Aedan and the old witch burst out into hysterics. Flemeth wiped away a tear whilst Aedan leaned on his knees. Their bodies shook as they chortled. With everything they had, they laughed. Laughed at the sheer absurdity of it all, the despair, the irony. Laughed at how the world tossed them about. Alistair stood bewildered. Morrigan peeked over from her soup with intrigue.

"Finally, someone who appreciates my sense of humor. Perhaps you wish to stay?" grinned Flemeth, who wiped away a tear from laughing too hard. That stare again- sinister and soul wrenching. Her question held truth. The world was gunning against him, had taken everything from him. He had been battered. He had been broken. Perhaps it would be better if he kept his head down, out of trouble.

But the words of his father rang in his head from long ago.

 _"It is so easy to stay down, to just quit. Every man will_ _be knocked_ _down_ _at some point_ _in his life. But a strong man, a good man, wi'l get back up no matter what happens."_

Aedan smiled and held back his tears. He had been left with enough.

"No. I need to get back to work," he stated.

"Good." Flemeth nodded slightly, never breaking eye contact. "Alright, but before you go, I have one thing to ask of you. Morrigan, dear!"

"I'm right here, Mother," grumbled the raven haired mage, "The stew is bubbling. Shall we have two guests for the eve or none?"

"No, the Wardens shall be leaving. You will be joining them."

"What a sham-" Morrigan wrenched her head at her mother. "What?"

"You are still young- your hearing has not yet been shot like mine. You heard what I said, girl."

Aedan calculated the situation in his head. A mage would certainly prove useful. Flemeth seemed particularly interested in stopping this blight- she had rescued the last two wardens and preserved the treaties. No doubt she would invest further to see this through, but there had to be catch. Like any politician, like any person, there was always a hook. With only two wardens and a dog however, Aedan couldn't play politics. He needed all the firepower he could get.

"I think that's an excellent idea," he said.

"Do I have no say in this?" exclaimed Morrigan. She seemed irate at her Mother's interference and growled at the older woman.

"You have been itching to get out the Wilds for years. Here is your chance."

"This is not how I wanted this, Mother. I'm not even ready!"

"Morrigan. They alone must unite Fereldan against the Blight. They need you, or they, along with everyone else shall perish. Including me." Flemeth gazed at Morrigan and nodded once.

"I..." Morrigan glanced once at Flemeth. Her eyes darted towards Aedan. She sighed. "Very well."

"And you, Aedan."

Shivers went down his spine when Flemeth uttered his name. The first time she had addressed him as such.

"I entrust to you that which I hold above all else in this world. I do this because you must succeed. Do you understand?"

Aedan nodded. "I'll keep her safe."

After Morrigan had packed all her things, the group began the trek to Lothering, a small village nearby. From there they could resupply and gather information. As they entered the forest. Aedan took one last look at the old woman standing by the hut. She stood grinning as always, her eyes narrowed at them. Aedan glanced at Morrigan. She too had taken one last look at her home, before snapping her head back.

"What was so funny?" whispered Alistair to Aedan, "Back there with Flemeth?"

Aedan paused before uttering one bittersweet word.

"Heroes."

* * *

**PART 1 END**

* * *

 


	9. Refuel

* * *

**Part 2: Fear**

* * *

 "Are you going to eat the soup or not?"

Morrigan groaned as the templar mulled over his bowl. Alistair eyed Morrigan, then his soup, then Morrigan again. He narrowed his eyes and poked the surface of the liquid. "How do I know you haven't poisoned this? Or put some kind of weird Witch of the Wild's herb that'll make me itch?"

As Morrigan and Alistair bickered, Aedan chewed the boiled rabbit. The meat tasted simple and lacked in flavor. He took another swig of his soup. Morrigan had hastily thrown some hunted rabbit and vegetables she had seen lying close around. Flavor did not concern her at this juncture. Aedan didn't blame her- they had more to worry about then herbs and spices. Aedan downed the last of his soup. The warmth filled his empty stomach. He had not eaten a warm meal in awhile. Decent? No, but even just a warm meal now was a luxury in their position.

"Yes, my mother rescued the last two wardens from the darkspawn horde just so I could poison them with soup. You are a very astute young man. Congratulations," sneered Morrigan.

"Sorry, it's just that my templar training has taught me to be bit weary of..."

Morrigan glared at Alistair. "Of what? Say it."

Alistair hesitated. He let the word escape his lips: "Apostates."

Morrigan seethed at Alistair, "Yes, perhaps you should be weary of your soup from now on."

"She's threatening me- you see, she's threatening me." Alistair poked Aedan's shoulder repeatedly.

Aedan ignored Alistair's pleas. He held his bowl out. "Seconds, please."

Morrigan smiled with victory over Alistair. She scooped another portion up for Aedan. As she passed the bowl to Aedan, their fingers briefly touched. Cold, thought Aedan, soft and cold.

As Aedan continued his second portion, Alistair stood up. "Going to go do some manly business right over there by that bush if you don't mind."

"I'll mind depending on whether your manly business smells," Aedan said.

Alistair pointed to a bush farther down. "Going to go do some manly business right over there by _that_ bush if you don't mind."

Aedan sipped his soup. "I don't mind."

The templar scurried off.

Morrigan eyed the warden next to her, who sat finishing the last portion of his soup. "Apparently I do not frighten you as much, judging by the fact you're still eating. Now why is that?"

"Why should I be?" Aedan shrugged. "I've seen you tangle with some the darkspawn we passed by- you seem in control of your powers."

"Really. I would think my prowess in battle would frighten people. Once when I showed a villager my magic, he ran away screaming. Thought I would burn his village down."

Aedan flinched. "Don't need magic to do that." He poked the fireplace with his stick. "I am just as likely to die from demons and fireballs as being stabbed in the back by swords."

"Well, I hope you're not just being agreeable for agreement's sake."

"Oh, you'll just love it when we get to Denerim. Politicians everywhere. You thought wading through the swamp was bad, wait till you see their bullshit. Besides, I speak from experience."

"You have much experience with magic?"

"No, just getting stabbed in the back," stated Aedan bitterly. He brushed away the thoughts of Castle Highever and Ostagar. Now wasn't the time for that. Before Morrigan could inquire further, Alistair stumbled out of the bushes. "Is that where we're heading first?" asked Alistair as he returned from the loo, "Denerim?"

Aedan gestured at Alistair's crotch. The Templar looked down, cringed, and buttoned up his pants. Morrigan groaned and buried her face in her hands.

"Not sure yet. I want to gauge the situation once we reach Lothering. No doubt the country is in a political upheaval right now. With Cailan dead, leadership will fall to Anora- which means to Loghain. We need to be careful."

Queen Anora had always been a reasonable ruler, but Loghain was her father. Aedan had no idea what lies he would feed her, and whether she'd believe them.

Aedan held his bowl above his mouth, letting the last drops fall in.

* * *

The group had encountered little trouble outside of Lothering, save for a few bandits. Morrigan had wanted to fry them, but Aedan had spared their lives and scared them off.

"Well Warden, what is our first order of business here?" asked Morrigan. "I have everything I need from the Wilds, so the rest is up to you."

"First order of business when entering a town?" mused Aedan, "To the bar of course."

"Oh good, perhaps your depression will take the form of alcoholism, instead of insufferable jokes and puns like Alistair."

"You misunderstand. The bartender is usually the best place to get information in a small town. Haven't you been in a bar?"

"Only briefly before the stench drove me away."

Alsitair spotted two templars at the entrance to the town. "Quick, hide your staff," he whispered to Morrigan.

"Yes, because I'm stupid enough to walk right past the templars with a staff," said Morrigan.

"Well, then hide it!"

"Hide what?"

Alistair blinked as light flashed in his eyes and Morrigan vanished. In her place, a small dog panted anxiously. Gregory barked loudly at Morrigan, who growled in return. The war dog whimpered and scampered to Aedan's side. The warden chuckled and tousled the top of his dog's head. At least he still had Gregory. Despite Morrigan's disguise, the group quieted as they marched past the templars.

Wooden shacks and stone houses lay scattered across the gentle sloping hills of Lothering. Refugees stumbled around in huddled groups. Despite the small nature of Lothering, the crowd of refugees overflowed on downtrodden dirt weary eyes and parched lips troubled Aedan as he passed by.

A girl with muddied blond hair approached Aedan with hands open. "Please, ser, spare some change?" Aedan stared down at her: she wasn't much younger than Oren was- had been.

His hand wavered for a moment. They needed all the copper they could for supplies and food. He had only managed to procure a little from Ostagar and the bandits. Quickly, whilst Morrigan and Alistair were turned away, he took the girl aside out of sight of other refugees. Aedan placed several coppers into the girl's hand. He held her hands in his and closed her thin fingers around the coin. "Here, get some food."

The girl smiled sadly and gazed into his eyes. Her tired eyes teared up. Aedan turned back to Morrigan and Alistair before they had noticed his absence.

"Thank you," croaked the small voice behind his back.

* * *

"Hey, hey, I think that's one of Loghain's men," whispered Alistair as Aedan pushed open the tavern door. Several armored men sat a table, with the townspeople looking anxiously at them. It wasn't often people dared to brandish weapons in a public tavern.

Aedan and Alistair sat down at the bar, facing away from Loghain's men. The company, however approached the two. Alistair nervously glanced behind his back, while Aedan signaled to the bartender for a beer. One of the soldiers slammed his arms down onto the bar next to Aedan, while stood directly behind him.

"Well well, look what we have here," said the captain, "Spitting image of the posters Loghain told us to put up. And yet everyone here said they hadn't seen him." The captain snarled at all the villagers in the room. Some trembled, fearing what could come.

The bartender slid a beer across the counter. Aedan reached for the beer and gulped down some of the bubbly bitter liquid. He let loose a long sigh- his first drink since Highever. The grizzled man slammed a wanted poster onto the bar's table. Aedan's drink shook and tiny droplets fell on the bar's surface.

"What the hell are you talking about," growled Alistair, "Why are we wanted?"

Aedan glanced behind him. Two in the back. Two sitting down.

"The Grey Wardens. Don't tell me you bastards have forgotten what you did to Cailan. You betrayed your king and country, sending the King to his doom and then running like cowards."

"Wait a sec, you think we did that? That's ridiculous, Loghain was the one who left Cailan to die."

Aedan gripped his ale as the voices behind him raised. His eyes darted about for any possible reinforcements. He had his back to the man- a disadvantage on his part. He wouldn't have time to draw his weapon, if he even should. If what the soldier spoke was true, antagonizing Loghain's forces would only be used to confirm the Teyrn's accusations.

"How dare you speak of the Hero of River Dane in such as manner, whelp."

"Use your brain for a second, why would the Grey Wardens help the darkspawn?"

"Because you're allied with Orlais, just waiting for Ferelden to fall to the blight and pick up the pieces."

"Gentleman, please," cooed a charming Orlesian voice. A sister had stepped forward, glowing with calm. Gently parted red hair almost covered the beautiful woman's smile. "There is not need for trouble. These are no doubt lost souls seeking refuge."

"Do you take us for fools? Their faces are clearly on the poster, and they are armed. Now stay out of our way Sister, or you'll receive the same punishment."

"Resorting to threatening Sisters?" Aedan sipped his drink and stared at the wall. "Let's just calm down, shall we?"

"Enough fooling around. Get out of my way, whore," snarled the captain, who brushed Leliana aside. He drew his sword and held it at the back of Aedan's neck. Aedan took another sip, his grip tightening on his mug. He needed help to escape this one, but a female dog wandered beneath the floor of the bar- one he knew well.

"Care to help, Morrigan?" muttered Aedan. Morrigan lept out from under the table and sunk her teeth into the captain's leg. The man staggered backwards, cursing. Aedan shattered his drink into the face of another attacker. His fist met the man's soaked face. Blood splattered against Aedan's fist. Alistair grabbed another from behind and threw him to the ground. The templar kicked the man in his delicates just for good measure.

Two men drew their daggers, and lunged towards Aedan. He flinched for a moment, unable to dodge. The sister dashed in front of them, delivering a blur of punches and kicks to the men. Within a few seconds they lay on the ground groaning. Aedan raised his eyebrow, impressed. He whipped his sword from his scabbard, knocking the captain's to the ground and slicing his cheek. The man stumbled against the wall. Aedan bashed his hilt against the captain's nose. The man reeled on the ground, holding his face. Aedan grabbed the man by his hair and slammed him against the wall.

"I want you to take a message to Loghain." Aedan tightened his grip on the man's hair. The man whimpered.

"Alive?"

Aedan hit the man's face against the wall again. "Unless the dead can walk, then yes, alive. Tell Loghain we know the truth. And that we're coming to him."

The captain nodded frantically. "Good," said Aedan. He dragged the man to the entrance of the bar. With several swift tosses, the men of Loghain's troop landed in a heap. When Aedan returned into the bar, he ignored the whispers and glances of the townsfolk. He took his previous spot and signaled to the barkeep for another ale.

"Sorry about that," said Aedan.

"Don't worry. Those men were a right bunch of bastards anyway. Strutting around and asking for free drinks." The bartender uncorked the cask and let the ale flow into Aedan's mug. "I personally don't believe that the Grey Wardens would ever do such a thing. Doesn't make any sense." He handed Aedan the mug and smiled. "On the house."

"Thanks," said Aedan. I didn't have enough money anyways, he thought, relieved. The two men briefly chatted over current events and the like, whilst Alistair procured some goods from a local merchant within.

"So, there might be demons in the Tower of Magi?" stated Aedan incredulously.

"Hey, that's just what I heard. People make up all sorts of stories," said the bartender, "But if demons ever were to pop up anywhere, it'd be at that damn mage tower."

"Thanks for info," said Aedan, who got up and left his empty glass. He approached the Sister, who for some reason was simply waiting nearby. Aedan pulled out a chair for her at a nearby table. "So, tell me where does a sister learn to fight like that?"

The woman smiled and sat down, but not before brushing the dirt off the seat. "I was not always a sister, just as you were not always a Grey Warden," she said.

"Pretty sure Aedan popped out of his mother sword and shield in hand," Alistair joked as he walked over. He looked around to the other three for approval. None laughed. "I'll just go sit in the corner," he sulked.

"You are Grey Wardens, correct?" Leliana held up the poster. True to the captain's word, the face was uncannily his and Alistair's. What was remarkable was the level of detail that Alistair's face had. Aedan wondered why Loghain would have such a good rendition of Alistair.

"That would be the case," said Aedan. He had no way to lie out of this.

"Good. Then I am coming with you."

It took several moments for Aedan to exactly register what the sister had said. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You will need all the help you can, am I right?" said the woman.

"And why would a sister wish to come with us?" asked Alistair.

Leliana smiled innocently. "Oh. That's easy, the Maker told me too."

Aedan and Alistair looked at each other with confusion. The two took an aside and muttered to one another.

"We will just need to stop by the Chantry for my things," said the sister.

* * *

The four had left the bar, and now headed down the dirt path towards the Chantry. "And who is this little fella?" Leliana cooed at Morrigan, still in dog form.

"Please don't," said Aedan.

"You really don't-" exclaimed Alistair, but he was too late. Leliana had picked up Morrigan by the arms and lifted her up into the air. Both wardens cringed at the coming pain.

"Look at her! She's so cute and adorable! I could just snuggle her," Leliana nuzzled the dog close to her and shook around."Who's a good girl! Who's a- Ow!"

Morrigan lept to the floor. Leliana rubbed her bleeding shoulder. "Is she not trained?"

Morrigan barked loudly at her. Leliana tried to shoo off Morrigan, but the transformed witch continued to harass Leliana. Aedan stepped in between the two and made a nod towards the templars. Morrigan hid behind Aedan and quieted down. "Her name is Morrigan. She's our mage," explained Aedan.

Leliana did a double take. She looked at the growling dog, then back to Aedan with disbelief. She looked to Alistair, who nodded his head sorrowfully. "Wait. She's a- human?"

"She shapeshifts."

"Oh. An apostate…" For a split second Aedan saw the sister's smile waver. "I've heard that Grey Wardens take anyone they can get, I guess I should not be surprised." Leliana looked at Morrigan and frowned. "Well, sorry about that. Did you really have to bite me though?"

"You were squeezing the life out of her," chuckled Aedan.

"Should I assume your other dog is a mage as well?" asked Leliana. Gregory wagged his stubby tail and barked. Leliana tentatively held her hand out. Gregory bounded over and licked her hand. Leliana smiled.

"No, he's just a dog."

"A very good dog!" Leliana knelt down and rubbed Gregory on the head and under his neck. Gregory planted his butt down and basked in the attention and petting of Leliana.

Just one question Sister-"

"Please, call me Leliana."

"Alright, Leliana, what's that man doing there in a cage?" Aedan pointed in the direction of a solitary cage near the outskirts of town. There inside sat a man much larger than any Aedan had ever seen. Rags adorned the man. Aedan had taken notice of his callouses on both hands. Those hands had wielded swords.

"Ah, the qunari. He has been sentenced to death for murder. He has been in that cage for quite some time without food."

Aedan peered at the qunari. The ragged behemoth meditated quietly. Chiseled muscles and scars ran along his body. He'd heard stories about the strange race from beyond the sea, all the way in Par Vollen. "So these qunari, they're good with weapons right?"

Alistair breathed in sharply and whipped around. "Aedan, there's a limit to how much people we can take along." Alistair moved in closer. "Along with how many crazies," whispered Alistair to his ear.

"I'm not crazy!" Leliana shot up from her knelt position, while Gregory whined that she had stopped petting him. "The Maker really did speak to me! He sent me a message through a dream!"

Whilst Alistair and Leliana argued over semantics, Aedan approached the man in the cage.

"Another human, come to stare at me like an animal. Leave me in peace," muttered the qunari, who stared blankly at Aedan.

"Who are you?" asked Aedan.

"I am Sten of the Beresaad- the vanguard of the qunari people."

Aedan bowed slightly with his head and said, "Pleased to meet you Sten."

"Manners. I have not seen these yet in your lands," replied Sten.

"You seem like you can handle a sword well."

"I can. I cannot say the same of you."

Aedan glared at the qunari. He held back a scornful comment and grinned. "As such, how would you feel about getting out of there?"

"And why would you do that?" asked the Qunari. Despite his suspicion, the qunari leaned forward against his bars.

"I'm a Grey Warden. I am sworn to protect this land against the Blight. I need all the help I can get right now, considering Teyrn Loghain let all the Grey Wardens and the king's army die."

The qunari eyed Aedan up and down. "You? You are a Grey Warden?" He scoffed. "They say the Wardens are warriors of great renown. Clearly they were mistaken."

"Thank you for such kind compliments. I'll be sure to take them to heart," said Aedan with sarcasm dripping from his voice. His tone turned serious when he asked, "Now answer the question. You want out or not?"

Sten quieted. His calloused hands wrung against the bars in contemplation. He eyed the group, his gaze leaping from one to another, a snarl on his face. After some time, Sten had his answer.

"If you can manage to free me, then I shall help you on your task."

* * *

_"How was the tournament you two?" cooed Eleanor. It had been several weeks since the events of the tournament. Bryce, as Teyrn of Highever, had to deal with the fallout. After the sudden disappearance of Yates, Bann Abelard had been thrown into disarray. Negotiating with him had to wait while the Bann searched for his son. Once he had cooled down, Bryce and Abelard concluded their business._

_There had been no sign of Yates since the tournament. Aedan thought it was smart for the young man to lay low for awhile._

_Eleanor hugged her husband and her son tightly. "Didn't get into much trouble did we?"_

_The two men exchanged a knowing look._

_"Not really," said Aedan._

_"Good! I heard the king ran into some sort of trouble there, but it got sorted out somehow. I'm a little fuzzy on the details. Came down the grapevine."_

_"Nothing our little boy couldn't handle," chuckled Bryce. He stretched his arms upwards, groaning as he cracked his back. "I think I'm going to retire to the bedroom. I've missed the comfort of my own bed."_

_"Is that the only thing you've missed the comfort of?" whispered Eleanor seductively to his ear. The couple giggled and intertwined their fingers. Their lips brushed against each other as Aedan gagged._

_"I'm going to go over to the kitchen. Far far away," he groaned. Bryce and Eleanor laughed at their son and made their way towards their bedroom._

_"Nan!" yelled Aedan, "You in the kitchen?" He rounded the corner through the hallway and leaned over in the kitchen doorway._

_"No need to shout little one, I'm right here," smiled the old woman. Nan lay out a warm bowl of beef stew in front of him, with biscuits on the side._

_"Have I ever told you are best person ever?" The young man smiled and grabbed a handful of biscuits._

_"Have I ever told you that you are the most gluttonous man ever?" As Aedan stuffed the food in his mouth, Nan tousled the top of his head._

_"Repeatedly," spoke Aedan through his food. His chewing slowed and quieted. Aedan had been contemplating an idea whilst traveling back home._

_"Nan, you go into town a lot, right?"_

_"Despite what you might think, we do not own a magic cupboard full of ingredient," said Nan._

_"Do you know anybody that could train me?"_

_Nan paused. Her hands lay still in her dish cleaning basin._

_"Train you? For what?"_

_"So, I went to the tournament today, and I realized something. If I had a difficult time with those sheltered knights, how would I hold up in an actual fight? Father would never let me get a trainer that's actually tough on me, who would show me the ropes."_

_Aedan thought back to the man's sword at his throat. How his heart had beat wildly against his chest. How the sweat had dripped down his forehead. How he had been so afraid of dying._

_"And why do you need to be good at fighting?"_

_"You know, I really don't like being a politician. Fergus is going to be the head of the Cousland house once Father steps down. So what am I going to do with my life? There are people out there following their dreams Nan. Why can't I just do...something?"_

_He looked down at his food and swallowed some stew._

_"I don't want to just be sitting around, living off of someone else, living a life of no meaning."_

_A smile flickered on Nan's face. She remembered a little boy who could barely reach above the table, clawing at his father's sword._

_"Unfortunately, you're on your own for that. All I know are the people who grow our vegetables."_

_The door slammed open. Aedan knocked his plate over in surprise. The shattered porcelain clattered on the ground._

_"My lord, my lord," gasped Ser Gilbert, who rested his hand against the wall._

_"Gilbert, what the hell is wrong?" asked Aedan._

_"The king-"_

_"The king is safe. He was saved from an assassin," said Aedan. He paused while Ser Gilbert caught his breath. The man's shocked expression had not changed. Aedan furrowed his brow. "He's safe right?"_

_"No," panted Ser Gilbert, "He's been lost at sea."_


	10. Solutions

_"Quiet!" Loghain struggled to control his ever-rising voice amidst the sea of squabbling politicians. His hands gripped the side of the round conference table, till finally the left side of his mouth twitched and he seethed through gritted teeth._

_"I said QUIET!"_

_The nobles silenced. Only the creak of the benches beneath the weight of all the nobles filled the silence. Aedan sat in the general seating area the farthest away. At the centre table saw Loghain, his father, and several other Arls. As Teyrns, Bryce and Loghain possessed authority second only to the king. A king whose seat now lay absent._

_Weeks had passed since the King was supposed to arrive at his destination. Weeks had passed since word from him. In those few weeks chaos had been brewing. And now it had been let loose: Loghain had called the Landsmeet earlier this year to deal with ever despondent situation._

_"Have we heard any more news, Loghain?" asked Bryce._

_Loghain wringed his hands. "Reports from Antiva have come in. They have found the wreckage of the boat that he sailed on- along with several dead bodies. None of them are Maric's. " Loghain wrinkled his brow in worry. Any last remnants of his youthful appearance had vanished, leaving only a man consumed by stress._

_Eamon spoke up: "Loghain, it's been a month since he was supposed to dock. And with this news, we have to assume-"._

_Loghain whipped around to Arl Eamon, fury in his eyes. "He's not dead!" Loghain slammed his fist down upon the table. It shook beneath his blow and rattled the very floor. The cries and bickering of the nobles erupted with this news. Loghain stood up and raged, "Maric wouldn't die from some silly storm! It must have been the damn Antivans! They must have taken him or something! They-"_

_"Loghain." Arl Eamon placed his hand on the man's shoulder. Loghain leaned against the table. His gaze fell to the floor. Aedan could only imagine what the man was thinking. Aedan had heard the rumors of how he had loved Maric's bride, who died shortly after Cailan's birth. And now his best friend had died._

_After some silence, Loghain sat down at the table. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "What do you suggest, Eamon?"_

_"For now, Fereldan needs a strong leader to keep it in check. As Teyrns, you and Bryce will need to take up any unfinished matters Maric had, and keep the kingdom in check."_

_"And then what?"_

_"Cailan and Anora will assume the throne."_

_Loghain's expression softened at the mention of his daughter. He gave a grunt._

_"Is Cailan even ready to ascend the throne? He's still only a young man," interjected one Arl._

_"He's about as young as Maric was," Loghain begrudgingly admitted, "but much less experienced. I will see to it that he is ready. And besides, he will not be alone."_

_Loghain smiled at his daughter from a distance. Anora stood in the crowds amongst the nobles. Unlike Cailan, she had chosen to attend, as she was somewhat enthusiastic about the political scene._

_"All those in favor?"_

_Those present murmured and looked at one another, but there was no other choice but for the nobles to raise their hands. The blood of King Calenhad had to live on._

_It had always been a strange concept to Aedan, why the king had to be of the same lineage. It made sense symbolically: a common ancestry around which to unite the people. But what if the successor turned out to be some sort of lazy corrupt fool? Cailan certainly wasn't that, but he certainly was no Maric either. He had not freed his country, he had no formal combat experience, and had very little experience in the political world._

_He eyed Anora. A thin, beautiful woman with radiant blond hair that fell to her shoulders, but her professional aura stood out the most: how she stood, how she spoke, even the way she breathed- controlled, precise, elegant. Aedan had seen her in court many times before, although never had the pleasure of meeting her. She was always discussing the latest the matters of the court with the Arls and Banns, and frequently impressed them with her solutions and knowledge. His mother spoke extensively of Anora, having often met up to advise her._

_As he looked around the room, he noticed that some with raised hands did so with sour expressions. They all had reasons to be displeased. Anora and Loghain, after all, descended from common blood. Although King Calenhad's legacy would be preserved, other nobles would have preferred their own daughters to that of an inferior commoner, but Loghain had always been Maric's right hand man and had arranged the marriage since long ago. Furthermore, no other woman, noble or common alike, could rule the country better than Anora._

_"I think that's enough for today," grumbled Loghain, "We shall reconvene tomorrow to discuss further matters. The Landsmeet is dismissed."_

_The rabble of nobles carried on as they slowly proceeded out the doors._

_"Aedan!" His father walked over with Fergus, who had been seated much closer to the table. As the next in line, Fergus needed to make his presence seen and heard more. "Your brother and I have some business to attend to with Arl Eamon," said Bryce, "Do you think you can stay out of trouble for a couple of hours?"_

_"In Denerim, Father?" Aedan grinned. "Probably not."_

* * *

Aedan grumbled as the party entered the Chantry. He looked up at the statue of Andraste then glanced away.

"Are you grumbling?" Leliana gave him a suspicious look. Her hands were placed squarely on her hips as she halted in mid walk. Aedan got the feeling he didn't want to tell Leliana the truth.

"No no," lied Aedan, "It's just my stomach. You know, Grey Wardens having big appetites and all." He laughed half heartedly and rubbed his stomach.

"Didn't you just eat?"

"We do have big appetites." Alistair rubbed his stomach and grinned. Leliana turned away, her curiosity satisfied. Morrigan barked at Aedan. If dogs could sinisterly grin, the look on Morrigan's face was just that. "Quiet you," Aedan muttered. Morrigan scampered off outside of the Chantry. Apparently she enjoyed it as much as he.

The lit candles flickered against the walls. The sun had begun to set outside. The last rays of light faded from the tinted glass. Inside, people kneeled in prayer. A low constant whisper lingered in Aedan's ears.

"Maker, keep my family saf-"

"Andraste, praise thy nam-"

"Give us guidance in this tim-"

"-save us."

Aedan grimaced at all the desperate people. They, like him, had lost everything, but at least he could defend himself. All they could rely on was the hope that someone would come to save them.

Dirty footprints and mud littered the inner hallway. The group came to a slighter cleaner area, filled with books and ancient relics. The Revered Mother sat reading, her hair tied in neat buns, her robe neatly falling down her thin, aging figure. She smiled as Leliana approached. "Ah, Leliana, there you are. Shall you be joining us for the Chant tonight?" The Revered Mother noticed the bloodied scrapes on Leliana's robes. "Ah. So you have found warriors to travel with I see." The woman sighed and put down her book.

"Yes." Leliana smiled bittersweetly. The Revered Mother stood up and held her arms open to Leliana. The red haired sister embraced the Revered Mother. "I have never known such peace as I have found here. But I must go." Leliana's eyes moistened.

The Revered Mother smiled and planted a single kiss on Leliana's forehead. "Then go my child. And always remember that you carry the Maker in your heart. You will never be too far from us."

Leliana bowed and left to retrieve her things. The Revered Mother turned to Aedan. "And who might you be, that Leliana trusts to travel with?"

"We are Grey Wardens," said Aedan. The Revered Mother's mouth twitched and she shifted in place. "Ah, that is...troublesome. You have heard the news of what your order has done."

"They are lies and slander from Teyrn Loghain, to cover up his betrayal."

After a moment's hesistance, the woman nodded. "I… very well. I am old enough to know that the game of politics is a complicated one. I shall take your word as long as you do not cause trouble."

Leliana returned clad in worn leather armor. Aedan spotted several daggers strapped to the young woman- one to her arm, another to her boot, another up higher along her thigh-

"And just where are you looking, hmmm?" giggled Leliana at Aedan. He blushed and coughed into his hand. "Anyways, I wanted to ask you something, Revered Mother. I'd like to have the qunari released into my care."

The Revered Mother glared at him, shaking her head. "That man is a murderer. Regardless of whatever purposes you Wardens may have for him, I do not wish to have the blame of his next victims on my hands."

"Please," pleaded Aedan, "The Blight is coming. For every darkspawn the qunari slays whilst with us, that is another victim spared from their clutches. Another step which brings us closer to ending this damn thing."

A sigh escaped the Revered Mother's lips. "Leliana, what do you think of this?" The old woman turned to Leliana. "Can we trust your new friend?"

"I…"The sister hesitated. "These are strange times, but with Aedan, the qunari may do some good for Ferelden."

The Revered mother turned towards the window and leaned against the railing, staring out at all the refugees littered about Lothering. Her fingers drummed against the rail. She turned back and held out a rusty key. "Very well. He is your charge now."

"Thank you for vouching for us, Leliana." Aedan pushed open the doors of Chantry. Night had almost fallen- they needed to make camp soon.

"It was no problem," replied the Sister.

"If I may ask, why? You barely know us."

Before Leliana could respond, an anguished howl ruptured through the air.

"The end is nigh! The Blight approaches! It shall consume your wives and children!"

Outside in the Chantry courtyard, a Chasind man ranted. Ragged and bloodied, the man staggered around from refugee to refugee. He howled at each of them, speaking of despair and death.

"Ah! AH!" he cried, pointing his quivering finger at Aedan. "He is marked by them! The darkness is within him!"

The townspeople glanced towards Aedan, apprehensive looks on their beleaguered faces. Children huddled against their mother's legs. Aedan stepped back from the Chasind man. He smiled and raised his hands in protest. "I am not one of them. Do I look sick or tainted?"

"I can feel it! I can sense it. That lingering scent of rot and darkness..." The man tapered off as he gazed in horror into the distance. His eyes clouded over as he relived memories within his head. He held his own sholders and shivered. Aedan grimaced at the sight of the man- judging by his appearance, he had come from near Ostagar. Aedan approached him and stilled the man's shaking arms.

"You poor man. What happened?"

The man teared up. "I watched...I watched as all I love was slaughtered. As the darkspawn tore at their innards. As they dragged my wife and daughter screaming away." The Chasind hyperventilated with ragged breath.

Aedan gave him a pat on the shoulder and let the Chasind breath it out. Once the man before him fell silent and calmed, Aedan whispered, "You should stop scaring these people. I don't think you're family would have liked to see you like this."

The man tearfully nodded and ran off. Even after he had left however the crowd still murmured in hushed tones. "But...what if he's right?" whispered one of the woman. The hushed whispers now became a roar of despair. "Oh Maker, we're all going to die!" gasped another man. The movements of the people became more frantic. Their voices reeked of fear.

Aedan turned to the crowd. Enough was enough. "Quiet!" he roared. The crowd silenced. The dead air hung between him and the quivering villagers.

"Do not waste time with despair. The Blight is not yet here. You still have time to flee, and to live. Go north!"

They whispered no longer of death, but of the north. However, the villagers remained where they were, still uncertain. Aedan too was unsure of how fast the Blight was moving. But he had to try and get these people to move.

"I am a Grey Warden, and I swear on my life that I will stop this Blight. Do not fear."

One man stepped turned to the others. "The Warden's right! There's still time!" The others began to breathe easier, and their trembling voices returned to normal. Aedan turned away: he had done all he could.

"Mmm...how forceful," came Morrigan's voice. Aedan saw Morrigan approach the group from the forest clearing.

"Decided to drop the dog disguise? Sure that's safe?"

"The templars are departing back into the Chantry to tend to the refugees for the night. It would be be rude of me to not take advantage of their absence. And besides, if they come back-"

Morrigan's hand glowed faintly with a flicker of flame.

"-I'll take care of them."

"No, you will not. We are already wanted for betraying the king, I really don't think crimes against the Chantry will endear us to the people of Ferelden," groaned Alistair.

Morrigan approached Leliana, and carefully sized the red haired rogue up. "Hmm...I hope that your time in the Chantry has not left you weak and addled."

Leliana's face reddened with fury. Just as she was about to say something, Leliana held her tongue and smiled. The edges of her mouth twitched. She stretched her hand out. "I am Leliana, it's pleasure to meet you Morrigan."

Morrigan glanced at the outstretched hand and Leliana's smile. She scowled and turned away.

Whilst Leliana silently fumed, Morrigan pointed towards the highway. "We should make some distance before nightfall so we can make camp safely. Have you decided where we are headed?"

"We're going to the Circle of Magi first. There's talk of demons overtaking the tower, and I'd rather our mages alive then dead." Aedan slung his knapsack over his back. He picked up a longer package wrapped in cloth as well. Over in the distance, he could make out the faint glow of torches by the highway entrance. "Let's get Sten and get out of here."

* * *

The cold wind rattled against the door of Sten's cage. His face numbed the pain. Days in a cage with little food, water, or clothing would do that. Perhaps this was his final fate- to be trapped in this cage until the blight consumed him. His back slumped against the cage. His breathing slowed and his eyes wavered. He had not slept for awhile- perhaps a little shut eye would-

"Hey!"

Sten's eyes shot open. Aedan's fingers drummed against the rusted cage.

"You can sleep later. We've got work to do." Aedan twisted the key in the lock. Of all the things he had encountered in this land, Sten found the click of the lock as the door opened to be the most exhilarating. He closed his eyes and breathed in the air. It smelled better. He took his first step out.

"I suppose it's too much to hope that you've got some gear stashed away," asked Aedan.

"It is."

Aedan tossed the long clothed object to Sten. The qunari ripped off the canvas to reveal a dulled steel greatsword. "I picked it up from the merchant. It's not much, but judging from the callouses on your hands you wield larger weapons."

"I do. Thank you." The qunari ran his fingers down the hilt. His hands ached for a familiar sword, but this would do for now. He closed his hands around the hilt and strapped the sword to his back.

Whilst the group approached the highway, Leliana said aside to Aedan, "You wanted to know why I vouched for you?"

Aedan nodded.

"You could have killed those men back in the bar. You could have just walked right past that man at the Chantry. You could have let Sten rot in his cage."

"So?"

"You have a good heart."

Aedan chuckled. "I have a pragmatic heart."

As they approached the stair to the highway, a mob of villagers came from the front. Gregory growled furiously at them, his hair on end. They held pitchforks and torches in their hand. Although Aedan didn't want to hurt them, they seemed hostile.

"Gentlemen, what seems to be the problem?" asked Aedan.

"You're the Grey Warden, aren't you?" said one man. The torch in his hand shook as he stepped forward.

"What's it to you?"

"That big bounty on your head. It could feed a lot of starving people." He tried to make a threatening face, but Aedan could only stare at confusion at his bared teeth. Aedan's hand twitched near his sword as the crowd of people inched closer. Dirty refugees and thin looking villagers surrounded them. Alistair raised his shield up whilst Leliana discreetly drew a dagger.

"You really want to do this?"

"We have to or we'll die," came the man's desperate response.

Aedan stepped forward.

"I'm warning you! Just come peaceably!"

Aedan stepped with his left.

"Stay back!" The man drew a dagger. His legs trembled and sweat flowed down his bald head.

Aedan stepped with his right.

The man lunged forward with his dagger, roaring as he did so. Aedan whipped his shield from his back and smashed the man's face against it. The man crumpled to the ground. He moaned through broken teeth and a bloodied mouth.

"I have had enough of people trying to fucking kill me." Aedan threw his shield and sword to the ground. Enough was enough.

"Aedan, what the hell are you doing!" Alistair tried to pull Aedan backwards. Aedan brushed off his hand, and looked at him.

"I need to send a message. Before this gets out of hand."

"Speaking of which," he muttered as several men drew closer. Aedan clenched his teeth and rushed in. He parried the incoming punches of two men, and chopped one man's torch to the ground. Aedan's fists barraged the few brave enough to step forward. He could feel the taint within him. It pulsed against his veins. It burned against his heart. Each punch he delivered was followed by a sickening crunch of broken bones. He felt different than before, even after the Joining- stronger, faster, heavier. Perhaps it had taken time for the taint to sink in. Perhaps it just needed enough anger.

He pummeled one villager into the ground with a series of rapid punches and hooks. The man crumpled to the ground a bloodied mess. Aedan, surrounded by the villagers groaning on ground in pain and cracked bones, turned to the rest.

"We done?" Aedan wiped the blood from his knuckles. The villagers didn't budge. He made a fist at them and those in the immediate front scurried backwards.

Aedan picked up his sword and shield off the ground. The villagers slowly approached the beaten whilst Aedan departed. People could get desperate when faced with starvation. Aedan was glad to have avoided their deaths, even if he did have to leave a few beaten.

Leliana's mouth had gone agape at Aedan's actions. She looked between Aedan and the villagers again and again. "You didn't need to beat them that badly!"

"I told you-" Aedan eased out a creak in his neck, then wiped his bloodied knuckle on the collar of his armor, "I have a pragmatic heart."


	11. Unexpected

_"Hey, shemlen, you're in my plants," came an old gravelly voice._

_"I am not in your pants good sir." Aedan rolled over and groaned and swatted at the fly on his face. His head throbbed like crazy. What the hell happened last night? He was at the bar, having drinks with some of the other nobles' sons, and then..._

_"I said plants," said the other person. Aedan heard the clatter of a bottle on the floor and the opening of another. He keeled over as a boot hit him in the stomach. "Now get the hell up." The grizzled face of a old elf stared down at him. He scowled at Aedan and kicked him again._

_"I'm getting up, I'm getting up." Aedan held his head and steadied himself upwards. "What the hell happened?"_

_"Hell if I should know. My hangover is killing me."_

_Aedan stared at the vodka in the elf's hands. "And you're still drinking?"_

_The man took another swig as he straightened out his potted plants. "Yup."_

_Aedan clumsily moved around to get a better look. His hands fumbled on the window blinds and he drew them back. He winced at the bright light and it stung against his eyes. Outside was the Alienage tree, it's green leaves flowing in the cool wind. It towered magnificently above the buildings,_

_"Am I in the Alienage? How the hell did I even get inside of here?" Aedan went on all fours to find his belongings. "And who the hell are you?"_

_"I'm Teharel," grunted the elf, "Why the hell is a shemlen in here?"_

_"Ah, you're awake." A young elven couple exited the upstairs. The elven woman smiled at Aedan's current unruly state. Her partner marched to Aedan and offered his hand out. "I'm Hijaya's fiance, Jarat, although you probably don't remember."_

_Aedan sluggishly shook his head before stumbling on his socks._

_"You saved my fiance and I last night."_

_For the life of him, Aedan scratched his head and racked his mind for any memories, but came up short. He couldn't remember anything after he had entered the Gnawed Noble. "I did?"_

_Jarat laughed heartily and led Aedan outside. "Perhaps some fresh water will help you. There is a well right outside. Hijaya is about to make breakfast, so be quick."_

_Aedan stumbled outside into the bright morning, groaning as the bright light stung his eyes. The dirtied apartment complexes of the Alienage surrounded him on every side. It was a tightly built place, with very little space for each family. Aedan wondered how so many elves could live in one place. It was the early morning though, so streets were sparse and deserted._

_As Aedan drew water from the well, a little elf girl ran up to him with her mother. "Mommy, look it's the dancing man!"_

_Aedan took a sharp breath of dread in. The elf's mother snickered and held her hand to her mouth. Aedan leaned his head inside the well to try and avoid their gaze. She gave Aedan a wide grin and walked up to him. "Our star performer is finally awake, hmm?"_

_He struggled to maintain an air of calm and sobriety. "My good lady, if you would be so kind as to tell me what I did last night?"_

_Another group of young elven children ran up to him."The dancing man!" They tugged wildly on his pant legs. "Let's dance! Dance! Dance!"_

_"What have I done," he groaned. He ruffled his hair in frustration and rubbed his eyes._

_"Well, our Teharel, and his daughter, Hijaya brought you back into the Alienage, rambling on about you had saved his daughter from some noble brats."_

_Aedan faintly remembered that. He had been walking out of the Gnawed Noble Tavern, when he had encountered upon some nobles harassing the young elven couple. They varied between sexual harassment and racial slurs. Just as the drunken elderly elf was to cut in, Aedan dispatched the offenders swiftly. They had put up a decent fight, but Aedan was their better. Aedan had offered to escort the three elves through the rest of the city, as the streets were crowded during the Landsmeet's off hours._

_"Last night was one of our traditional elven festivals. Teharel, being our resident drunk, offered you some alcohol."_

_"Dancing man had lots of no no juice!" piped in one of the children._

_"Yes he did little thing, yes he did. It's not often we get to see a shemlen make such a fool of himself." The elven woman snickered again and patted the child atop his head. She addressed Aedan again: "So you joined in with our elven song and dance. You did very well for a drunkard."_

_Aedan rubbed his aching temples and walked back towards Jarat's apartment. The old elf, Teharel, leaned against the wooden walls watching Aedan. "You hear all that?" asked Aedan._

_"Shut up, shemlen. My head hurts. I'm not too old that my hearing is already shot." Teharel held a begrudging hand out. "Thank you for helping us."_

_Aedan held his own hand out, leaning against the wall with the other to keep his balance, and shook the elf's hand._

_"It's hard, having to watch my daughter and son in law be harassed everyday. I can't even beat the shit out of the humans because then that would cause a whole sea of trouble. It's nice to know that there are some humans that aren't complete asses."_

_The door creaked as Aedan opened it. Teharel stayed firmly against the wall. "You're not eating?" inquired Aedan. A grumble escaped the old elf's lips. He hacked and spat against the ground._

_"No, those two are too lovey dovey and shit. Just watch and try to keep down your breakfast while they make kissey faces." As Teharel walked off swinging his booze, he muttered, "I wish I still had income so I could get my own damn place."_

_Several minutes later, Aedan wished he had heeded Teharel's warning. Hijaya and Jarat held spoons of rice soup to each other's mouth, making the most vomit inducing kissy faces he had ever seen. Even his parents never measured up to this level of sheer...whatever it was._

_"No, you take a bite first!"_

_"No, you!"_

_Hijiya giggled as Jarat kissed her on the cheek suddenly. "Behave in front of our guest!"_

_"How can I with such a tasty meal in front of me," whispered Jarat in her ear. Hijiya moaned softly as Jarat reached under the table to places unknown. Aedan coughed as loudly as he could for the very sake of his sanity, letting his utensils clatter as loudly as they could._

_"Ah." Jarat suddenly realized what had happened and he resumed eating his rice soup and his face reddened. Of all the awkward moments he had experienced, Aedan thought, this topped it all._

_"I'm sorry, it's just without my father around, we get a little...frisky." Hijaya pecked her fiancee on the forehead and picked up his plate. "I don't have the heart to ask him to move out. I know he loves it so here."_

_"Clearly," muttered Aedan under his breath. He was not surprised Teharel had turned to drinking during the day. The light shone in through the window, the sun at starting to reach its peak. Midmorning. His father might be getting worried._

_"I don't suppose we could ask you a favor?" Hijiya and Jarat beamed at him as best they could. Hijiya pushed another plate of sausages towards Aedan._

_Aedan gave them a suscipious glance whilst he finished chewing his bread. "You want me to get your father out of your house."_

_"Well, we assume you're a noble, seeing as how you came out of the Gnawed Noble."_

_Meat mashed in between Aedan's teeth as he pondered his next answer. "Yes, I live in Highever, only a day or two from here."_

_"I don't suppose you have any paying work for my father? He just sits around and drinks all day, grumbling and complaining. I think it'd do him some good to get working again."_

_"-and out of the house."_

_"Mainly that, yes."_

_The elven couple looked at him with puppy dog eyes, leaning forward a little and waiting for his answer. Aedan's fingers drummed against the table as he thought. He didn't really want to hire an old, drunk elf. He wondered if they actually tolerated humans, or just smiled long enough for them to get what they wanted._

_But they were in love. He could see that. And he'd definitely be doing both parties a favor._

_Aedan sighed. "I'll see what I can do. What can your father do?"_

_"He's a gardener mostly, he used to maintain the Alienage tree before I took over."_

_"Huh." A tiny smile fell on Aedan's face. As luck would have it, they did actually need a gardener. Old Rosaline had been caught pilfering items from the treasury several weeks back, and they had been looking for a competent gardener ever since. If Aedan believed in fate, then this would be it._

_After the last remnants of breakfast had been devoured, Aedan wandered the Alienage looking for Teharel. There were the giggles of those who had seen him last night. Then there were the hostile stares he recieved from other elves. The way they looked at him with contempt as he walked on by. He didn't belong here. Aedan knew that. They knew that._

_Aedan found Teharel sitting underneath a lone tree, finishing up his bottle. As Aedan stood above him, his shadow cast over Teharel. The old elf grunted without looking upwards._

_"Hey, so I heard you wanted a job."_

_Teharel scowled at Aedan. "I'll have none of your pity."_

_"Do you really want to live in that house?"_

_Teheral rubbed his eyes and laughed. "You had breakfast with them, didn't you."_

_"I had damn breakfast with them. Are they-"_

_"All the time."_

_Aedan shook his head and gave low chuckle. The old man propped himself up and threw the bottle into a nearby bush. "Alright, what the hell is this job and will it get me out of that house?"_

_"Well, want to be our gardener in Highever? Free room and board."_

_The slap of the elf's hand against his knee shocked Aedan with it's power. "Hot damn! That sounds pretty good. Let's see this so called place of yours."_

_Aedan grinned. The elf was starting to grow on him. "Come on, my father's estate is in the main city."_

_As they neared the exit of the Alienage. "You know, you can fight sorta well for a shemlen," admitted the elf._

_"Sorta well? I'd think quite well old man."_

_The elf looked at the young man's confident demeanor, and scowled, thinking back to days when he was like that. "Alrighty, come at me." He placed his fists forward. "Just don't cry afterwards."_

* * *

_The door to the Cousland estate creaked opened. Bryce Cousland rushed to the entance."Aedan, there you are! I was worried sick. Where were you last night? And what in Maker's blazes happened to your face!" He held both his son's cheeks in his hands, peering at the bloodied nose and bruised eye._

_"Someone got a lucky shot in." Aedan limped into his house with Teharel behind him. The old elf smirked as Aedan winced to climb up the steps. "Don't worry about me Father. I crashed with a friend." He wiped his bloodied nose on his sleeve._

_"Who's the elf?" asked Bryce._

_"So Father, you said we needed a gardener a couple of weeks ago, right? Well, I found one. Fantastic gardner, does a lot of work in the Alienage."_

_"Hello shemlen." Teharel gingerly plucked at one of the houseplants lying around the estate. He made a sour face as he rubbed the leaf in between his fingers. "Someone doesn't water their plants."_

_Bryce groaned as the elf continue to inspect the estate's foliage. "Sometimes I am glad that Fergus is the one taking over."_

_Aedan wiped aside his bloody nose. "I love you too, Father." He attempted to pay his father on the back but Bryce swerved away and gagged at the bloody hand._

* * *

The group sat in silence around the bubbling soup. "Well, eat up guys!" Alistair smiled and offered each of them a bowl of grey thick sludge.

Aedan took a deep breath in, steeling his resolve, but the smell emanating from the greenish-yellow mixture before him didn't help. He took the first swig. His eyes widened and his throat gagged. He sputtered a bit as he swallowed.

'Wow," he coughed, "what, what is in that?" He gagged as he pointed at the soup. The taste was comparable to that of his joining. Aedan felt a pointy bone somewhere in there as well.

Morrigan sipped the soup, swallowed once, then poured her share back into the main bowl. "That is disgusting. And I once swallowed actual swamp mud."

"Well, I didn't expect much praise from you, Morrigan. How about our new comrades?" Alistair turned to them, smiling as best he could to alleviate their worries. Aedan tried to keep down his soup the best he could whilst he took another swig.

Leliana and Sten looked at their soup, then back at Alistair. They watched Aedan struggle to down the rest. He needed to keep up his energy. Leliana dipped her finger in the stew and delicately placed it in her mouth. "Maker give me strength," she whispered. She drank the soup sip by sip, cringing with each swallow. "It's...interesting."

Sten downed the bowl in one sitting and his eyes widened. Alistair ran over to his last glimmer of hope, a wide grin across his face. "Do you like it?"

The qunari turned to him, his face stoic and at the same time filled with utter contempt and hatred. His eyes bored into Alistair and the templar shivered.

"No."

The qunari got up and left into the forest. Leliana yawned and stretched her arms out, then departed silently to set up her tent. Alistair slumped next to where Aedan sat.

"Is it really that bad?" The templar frowned and took a bowl into his hand.

"Don't worry buddy. We've all got our skillsets. I've got my sword, you've got your humor.

Alistair's frown faded away. "Well, perhaps I can get the darkspawn to laugh to death. That'd be something to see, laughing darkspawn." The templar kicked over an empty bowl as he got up. He chuckled as it rolled into the fire. "You and Morrigan have guard duty then?" Aedan nodded and fished the bowl out with a twig.

"Good look with that," muttered Alistair. He made haste and abandoned his friend to Morrigan. Aedan glanced at her. She gave Alistair a sour look as he left. She probably heard what he had said. The fire crackled amidst the silence while the two sat next to each other. Both stared into the dancing fire before Morrigan asked, "I have a question."

"I'm all ears."

"Now that you have seen my abilities in action, what is your opinion? Am I to be burned at the stake like an abomination?"

Aedan pondered for second. "Maybe tied to a flagpole and tickled, that's about it," he teased without thinking. His eyes widened at what he had just said. Morrigan would kill him.

"Oh? That's good to hear." Morrigan laughed. Aedan was surprised, and a little bit relieved; Morrigan ordinarily had some sort of scowl on her face or insult slithering from her mouth. But laughter...at something one of them had said?

"Not many people are so...appreciative of my abilities," replied the witch.

"Kept us out of trouble today. Useful traditions should be preserved."

It was Morrigan's turn to be surprised. Such words from the mouth of an outsider. "You just keep on surprising me, little man."

"Little? You've hurt my feelings now." Aedan held his hand over his heart and feigned pain. Morrigan smiled with intrigue. This man did not slink away from her insults, and he responded without missing a beat. Much better company then that infuriating templar.

"Well," smirked Morrigan, who briefly scanned Aedan, "perhaps not so little. Who was it that taught you to fight? I imagine that the Wardens, while they do not test for intelligence-"

She looked at Alistair who struggled with a loose string on his shirt. The templar tried to pull it off to no avail and managed to entangle himself further in its grasp.

"-at least test for adequacy in combat."

Aedan stoked the fire and gave a hearty chuckle. "A Dalish warrior named Teharel. Crazy old elf."

"Seems a little unusual for a human to train under an elf, let alone a Dalish. How did one such as yourself manage to procure him to train you?"

"You know how it is, you just sorta stumble upon opportunities."

A hour later, Aedan and Morrigan still sat by the the fire swapping stories. They talked about Morrigan's life in the wilds and her encounters with templars. Aedan answered Morrigan's questions about the outside world and explained the strange nuances that she had encountered.

"You're very honest," said Aedan, after he had finished asking about life in the Wilds.

"So?" Morrigan raised her eyebrow. She wasn't sure whether or not this was a compliment or an insult.

"It's different in a good way. Different then the people I've been around, especially the politicians."

Life amongst politicians rarely felt so clear. What-ifs and ambiguous answers filled his castles halls. He had always known Uncle Howe lied and brown-nosed, but he would never have thought him to do what he did- but Morrigan. If she didn't like you, she made it abundantly clear. If something displeased her, her sharp tongue would lash out at it. If she didn't want to talk about something, she outright stated it. Aedan found Morrigan's brutal honesty refreshing and unfamiliar.

"Interesting. You seem quite familiar with politicians and the like, such as this Loghain fellow you speak of. And who might you be, to be so knowledgeable of them? A concerned citizen? A noble?"

"What do you think?" Aedan leaned backwards onto a nearby log and crossed his arms. Morrigan paused for a moment and leaned in closer to Aedan. Her face was mere inches from his. His heart skipped a beat. Her eyes trailed up whilst she scanned him and briefly lingered at eye contact. She returned to her previous position and yawned.

"Your skin complexion suggests a healthy diet, and your teeth are quite clean. You show manners to most everyone you meet, and don't have an annoying accent."

She tilted her head and smiled. "A noble perhaps?"

Aedan gave her a little clap. "Not anymore, but congratulations, you're right."

"And do I get a reward?"

"What?"

"Tis only fair."

"Too easy a challenge."

"Very well. A harder challenge." Morrigan thought hard, then asked, "What is a noble doing in the Grey Wardens?"

"That's a hard one," grimaced Aedan, "You only get one guess though. Make it count."

"Hmmm...I shall have to investigate further." The fire had died down to the faintest flames. "Til tommorow then," yawned Morrigan.

"Aren't you supposed to keep guard duty with me?"

"I'm sure someone such as yourself is perfectly capable of keeping watch by themselves." Morrigan snapped her fingers. The fire roared to life with a blast of heat. The witch walked to her tent, far off and segmented from the others.

Aedan smiled and warmed his hands by the fire.


	12. Teachers

_"How the hell do you fight when you're drunk?"_

_Aedan and Teharel were sparring in one of the cellars underneath Castle Cousland- if sparring involved Teharel kicking Aedan on the floor repeatedly, or slamming his fist into his delicates._

_The young noble rolled out of the way of one such low blow aimed below the belt. He skidded onto the ground, dirt staining his face. "Asshole. I'd like kids one day, you know."_

_Teharel leaned against the wall while Aedan caught his breath. "That's what they all say."_

_Teharel had transitioned nicely from the Alienage to Highever. Besides his grumpy complaints about the cold, he hadn't had any regrets yet about taking the job. Aedan had managed to convince him to spar with him on occasion. He had not directly asked the elf to teach him fighting, and wanted to incentive the elf. The incentive being a human punching bag._

_As Aedan took another blow to the chin, he started to seriously regret this incentive._

_"Experience. I have experienced many toxins in my time and learned to maintain composure whilst poisoned. Alcohol was the least of my worries. Did you know the southern ginger root that grows in Kirkwall can be used to create a powerful hallucinogen? My people once used it to strengthen our resolve before our hunts."_

_Aedan stabbed forward with his practice sword and Teharel merely took a step to the side to avoid it. Aedan stumbled forward on his feet and rolled to the ground._

_"But really, it's just that you suck so much that an old drunk elf can beat you up." Teharel uppercut Aedan and the young noble spun in a circled and slammed into the wall._

_"Stop moving around so much," panted Aedan. He stopped to catch his breath against the wall and wheezed heavily. For an old man, Teharel moved remarkably quick. Was it because he was an elf? "Gimme a sec."_

_"No breaks here."_

_"I said gimme a sec," growled Aedan. Teheral sneered back at him._

_"I want to know something boy. Why do you fight?"_

_Silence. Aedan had no answer. Honestly, he didn't know. Was it to be a hero? To just be good at something?_

_"I think I know why," said Teharel, "You fight because you're afraid. You fight because you're afraid that you will have no meaning, no worth, be of no consequence to other people if you're not good at something."_

_"Shut up," muttered Aedan. He pushed off the wall, clenched his fist and swung it straight at Teharel's face. It collided with the elf's palm. The elf kicked Aedan in the side and threw him to the ground. He sneered at Aedan's attempt and kicked him again on the ground._

_"Brought up to be the best of the best, the son of the Teyrn of Highever, but always second best to the eldest. What purpose do you have? All you are is a backup, a worthless piece of trash brought up on plush beds and warm food. You've never experienced true hardship. You've never experienced true fear."_

_Aedan rocked backwards and kicked upwards. His feet crashed to the ground and Aedan charged at Teharel. Rock collided with Aedan's back as Teharell smashed him with his elbow._

_"That's what will always keep holding you back. Your family. They've raised you to be strong, yes, but there's only so much they can teach you. You'll stay here with your fancy linens and feasts because you've never known anything else. That's why you'll never beat me, even when I'm drunk."_

_Aedan wiped his bloody lip. "Shut the hell up, old man."_

_"Good. You're angry."_

_Teharel burst forward, hitting Aedan square in the chest. A dribble of blood escaped from his mouth, but Aedan didn't miss a beat: he grabbed Teharel's arm and twisted in opposite directions while tripping the elf. Teharel winced. Aedan drove his fist right into the elf's chest, knocking the air right out of him._

_Teharel whipped around on the floor and whacked Aedan against the wall with a spinning kick right to the chin. Aedan slid down the brick wall and sat on the floor. His legs trembled as he struggled to get back up. His body hurt all over. But hot air seethed through his teeth as he gazed at Teharel._

_"Sit there."_

_"Fine." Aedan stopped his attempts to get up and let his body go limp. Teharel sat down beside the bloodied Aedan._

_"I meant what I said. But I'm also going to say this. Cherish your family. Cherish what you have. You've been given what most people want their kids to have. A good life. Fighting isn't everything. Worth isn't everything."_

_Teharel took a swig of his booze. "Look at me. I'm a worthless drunk gardener. And I could never be happier." Aedan looked at Teherel's face from the corner of his eye. He could swear that the elf was grinning to himself. Was the old elf happy like this? Just a simple old gardener whose own daughter wanted him out of the house?_

_"You're just happy because you got a new punching bag," coughed Aedan through blood._

_"Yes, it's not often I get to beat the shit out of humans. And paid for it." Teharel laughed and slapped Aedan on the back. The young man grumbled at the snickering elf._

_"So everyday from now on, for training, I need you to do something or else I'll kick the shit out of you."_

_"More push ups?"_

_"You need to meditate."_

_"Meditate?" Aedan cocked his head to one side. He didn't really see the point, but he would do as Teharel said. If he could fight as well as Teharel, who was old and drunk, then he'd gladly sit still for a few minutes._

_"You're too reactionary when you fight. You need a clear head."_

_As Teharel got up to continue gardening, Aedan chuckled, "So you're training me now?"_

_The elf grunted and hid a smile from Aedan. "Guess so."_

* * *

"Alistair, I have a favor to ask you."

"Yes, I know what you're going to say. How do I get my hair to look this great?" Alistair pondered for a moment. "Actually, how do I get my hair like this?" He ruffled his hair and brought one of his bangs down towards his face for closer examination.

"Focus, Alistair. This is important," groaned Aedan. Sometimes Alistair could get a little...distracted. He wasn't sure what Duncan saw in him. He was a good warrior, but certainly not the best, and certainly not the brightest. Then again, what the hell had Duncan seen in Aedan?

"Alright, what is it?"

"Can you teach me some of your templar techniques?"

Alistair took a sharp breath in. "I dunno- I sort of swore an oath of secrecy and all that."

"We are going to a tower filled with demons and most likely abominations. I need to be as prepared as possible."

The group was a mere two days away from the mage's tower. From the rumors they had heard, the situation was bad. Nobody had heard from the tower in days, not even from the templars.

Aedan was unsure whether the group was ready to face the whatever might be in the tower. Their teamwork was dysfunctional at it's best. Morrigan stuck to herself in combat, casting off all sorts of deadly spells which often time grazed the others. Leliana would sneak off and kill their opponents one by one, but Aedan could never keep track of where she was on the battlefield, making arranging the group a problem. Sten, despite his incredible skill with a sword, adopted a similar loner attitude as Morrigan, and mowed down any in his path, disregarding any of the others. Alistair was the only one willing to work with him so Aedan took advantage of that. In the last battle with highwaymen, the two had stuck back to back and eliminated any chance of being stabbed in the back.

The group was deadly, yes. During their battle with the highwaymen, they had dispatched them within a few minutes. But Aedan remembered back to the tactics and strategies he had gleamed from the military campaigns of Loghain. Their party would struggle against a larger quantity of foes or more powerful ones. Then again, Loghain's strategies had proven quite disastrous for them so far.

So if they would not work together as a team, then Aedan had to make sure that he could at least look out for himself.

Alistair tilted his head back and forth, still weighing the pros and cons in his head. He made a funny expression with his mouth as he chewed his tongue.

"Do you like being scorched by fireballs?" asked Aedan, "I do not like being scorched by fireballs."

"You have a point there." Alistair scratched his chin and shrugged. "Screw it. Not like I'm not already a wanted criminal. So, have you faced a lot of mages?"

"Just one." Aedan remembered the frozen spell of the one mage he had faced.

"Did you win?"

"No,' replied Aedan, his face downcast and bitter, "No. I did not." The shattered sword in his bag constantly reminded him of that. It had been awhile since he had held the shards in his hand. They remained in the tattered brown bag Duncan had given him, and he hadn't opened the bag up since...that night. His blood was still caked on there.

"Well, the important thing when facing mage or abominations down is obviously their magic. I never took my vow, so I don't have the advanced level templar techniques, but I've learned basic magic suppression, templar tactics, and their practices. The most important thing is disrupt the mage's flow of energy."

"And how do you do that?"

Alistair scratched his head. "I dunno, you're just suppose to sense it or something. We did meditation training and daily prayer to strengthen our minds. It would allow us to better focus on the mage's spellcasting and learn to disrupt it. It was also to keep us strong against mental attacks."

"Right right, meditation, my teacher had me practice that."

"I personally hated it. I'm not really a sit still in one place and be quiet kind of guy. I'm just too loveable for that. But besides the meditation, it's more about reading the movements of the mages. The twitch of the hand, the directions of their arms. I mean, a lot of mages give away the location of where their shooting magic or if they're about to cast a spell. Not that smart once you think about."

"What, so just avoid where they're pointing? That's not really new. I don't usually point my forehead against bows."

"No, no. It's the subtle movements. It's reading what the mage is going to do next. Of course, there's this whole thing on the flow of magic in the body, but even I'm not too sure how that works. Like I said, conscripted before my vows."

"So you don't know too much? I can't do the anti-magic...thingy." Aedan made a bizarre waving motion with his hands and tried his best to imagine what spellcasting looked like. He looked to Alistair for confirmation. The templar shook his head.

"I prefer to think I got the better end of the deal. You know, lyrium addiction and all that."

"Right, I heard about that. So you can't use any of the higher level techniques without lyrium?"

"That's the jist of it."

"It's a shame. Once you get addicted, you can't stop being a templar. No such thing as retirement."

"Well, neither do Grey Wardens."

"What?"

Alistair widened his eyes at what he had just said. "Nothing," he stammered. "Just a pity about those other templars. But they knew what they were getting into...mostly."

"Magic suppression seems out of the question for me then." Aedan sighed. "Thanks anyways Alistair."

As Aedan began to make his tent, Morrigan walked over and leaned against a tree. It was rare to see her come away from her tent. Whenever Aedan talked to her, it would be by the fire at Morrigan's tent. She set herself up secluded away from the others. However she welcomed, or whatever her form of welcome was, Aedan whenever he came to talk. Unlike the others, whom she either scorned or turned away, she made no objection to Aedan's presence.

"Why listen to that fool? Clearly, if you want to know how to stand against magic, then you need practice. With a mage. Not the ramblings of some nonsensical order."

"What do you suggest?"

Morrigan smiled and motioned over to a clearing in the forest. "Come. Let us see why my mother thought you worth saving."

Brown and red leaves crackled beneath Aedan's feet as they entered the clearing. It was of medium size, giving him enough room to duck and dodge. Would that be enough to escape any spells? Morrigan centered herself in the clearing, and assumed a ready stance with the tip of her staff pointed at him. Aedan raised his shield and circled around Morrigan. He peered over the top his shield to see the witch smirk at him.

"Good. Always keep a defensive layer between you and the mage. However, this circling business will do you no good. I need not be facing you to cast a spell on you."

Morrigan twirled her staff and made one quick thrust in his direction. A column of fire erupted in his direction. Aedan was caught off guard, and raised his shield to protect himself from the fire. He cringed as a stray flame flickered over the top of his shield, but opened his eyes to find it tame in intensity.

"Relax. The fire's not too deadly. Just enough to singe you though." This time she struck her staff into the ground, and an array of rocks burst out underneath of Aedan and knocked him to his feet. "Although fire is not the only trick I have."

Morrigan laughed as Aedan weaved through her fire blasts and other spells. Aedan grunted and his face sweated beneath the heat. He leapt suddenly to the side and Morrigan's fire seared the tip of his foot. A blast of icicles skimmed past his face, almost grazing him. He wiped the sweat from his brow and cleared his head. He took deep breaths as he began to run, circling around Morrigan. With each circle he began to close in a little without her noticing. He would not go in too deep, least she figure out his scheme, but just close enough so that he could lunge in.

"Are you having fun?" Aedan winced as he jumped upwards to avoid the rocks.

"It's not often I get to play." Morrigan smiled and rose another columns of rocks right in Aedan's path. He pushed off the rocks backwards and landed on all fours. He was about at the right distance. He narrowed his eyes, concentrating on Morrigan. He remembered when he too was overconfident. During those moments, he'd get a kick in his stomach from Teheral.

Morrigan started thrusting her arms forth when she fired at Aedan. The flames grew hotter and larger. The witch laughed as Aedan darted back and forth. He examined her while she shot another. Her arms began moving to the right and her elbows drew backwards, like an archer pulling back a bow. Her eyes filled with thrill as she thrust her arms forward. The moment she started to move forward, Aedan made the tiniest side step and lunged behind Morrigan.

It was so quick Morrigan didn't realize at first that he was coming forward. Physical confrontation didn't work for her. She had always kept her opponents at a distance. Morrigan gasped as Aedan wrapped his right arm around her neck and his left arm pulled both of hers behind her in one gentle swipe. She had barely anytime to react.

"Captured," he whispered in her ear. Sunlight glinted off the knife in his right hand. From behind he could smell Morrigan's hair- sweet scented, but not like a flower. More like the warm glow of a fire. He held her with the least amount of force and his arm barely draped around her. Her wrist were small and lithe, and she didn't have much muscle on her. He didn't want to hurt by accident.

"I have not been captured, thank you very much," growled Morrigan. She snapped her wrists away from Aedan's grasp and pushed off of him. "Do not touch me."

Aedan chuckled. "Someone's a little sore about losing." He held his hands up disarmingly. Morrigan glared at him. He could see a vein bulge on her forehead, her cheeks flushed with indignation. Apparently she didn't lose often.

"I was not even trying. It does not count." The witch stormed off in a huff, but not before glaring at Aedan one last time. Aedan groaned- he hadn't meant to offend Morrigan. And he thought he was at least on good terms with her. Now, it was uncertain.

Alistair popped out from behind a scorched tree. "So, you pissed off Morrigan," said Alistair. A proud smile formed on Alistair's delighted face. He bear hugged his brother in arms, squeezing the air right out of him.

"I'm so proud of you buddy."


	13. Danger

_"Father...are you okay?"_

_Aedan peered over at his father, hunched over the old oak desk. The man muttered to himself as he read through papers. Piles of parchment covered the desk and littered the floor by Bryce. An almost burnt out candle flickered against the darkness of the room._

_Bryce turned to Aedan, his eyes drooping. "Aedan...pup...why aren't you asleep yet?"_

_"I could ask the same for you Father."_

_Bryce groaned and rubbed his temples. As he got older, it was harder and harder to read by candlelight. "Maric's unfinished business, and business that Cailan has yet to take up." He signed another paper and put into an ever growing pile._

_"Father, come on, go to sleep. You've been at this for weeks."_

_"The kingdom needs this to be done, Aedan. Lots of nobles are getting restless."_

_Aedan leaned against the study wall. He wasn't interested in being a politician, certainly, but if there was something kingdom threatening, then it'd be good to know about. "Like what?"_

_"A lot of what was keeping many of the nobles was their respect for Maric and the part he played in liberating us from the the Orlesians. Now that his son is on the throne, some are pushing Cailan to make rash decisions. Cailan isn't quite so bold enough to say no. All it takes is a little wining and dining and a few compliments and the man is won over."_

_"What about Anora, shouldn't she be able to help?"_

_"She won't be able to do anything official until the marriage ceremony, which is still a few months from now."_

_"So what exactly is happening?"_

_"Land disputes. It's always about land disputes. Imagine what was happening with Bann Abelard but on a much larger scale. Then there are the prisoners of war, and the issues of taxes-" Bryce collapsed on the front of his desk, burying his head in his hands. "Thank the Maker I only have to do this for a few months."_

_"You need help?"_

_"No, no, I'm good," said Bryce before his head slammed on the desk and he winced. "Perhaps a little help would be good."_

_"Good." Aedan marched over and helped his father clear the area. "Now go get some shuteye. I'll divvy up the work here so Fergus and I can help you out."_

_"You sure you can handle this?"_

_"Of course I can. I'm a Cousland."_

_Bryce clenched his fist above his head and shook it drowsily. "That's my boy." He patted his son on his shoulder before noticing something on his face. "Pup, you've got a little bit of...eww."_

_Bryce Cousland was about to touch whatever was on Aedan's lip before he realized what it was._

_"Is that...vomit?" Bryce made a funny face and wrinkled the sides of his mouth._

_Aedan sickly chuckled. "Yeah, I think I'm sick or something. Whenever I eat anything I get queasy and naseous." As though right on time, his stomach churned._

_"Looks like I'm not the only one who should get to bed."_

_"Please Father, who do you think I-"_

_Aedan's bowels made a sickening growl as his face went pale. "I'm just going to take some of these to go," he groaned, swiping some of the documents off of his father's desk._

_He sprinted down the ancient stone corridors before he came to the bathroom. Ten minutes later, he returned, feeling as though he had been reborn. Teharel passed by, carrying several potted plants. Teharel snickered at the sight of Aedan's sweaty face and sick demeanor. Aedan whipped around and glared at him. The elf knew something. He always knew something._

_"Do you know what this is?"_

_"Yup." With no noise or impact Teharel dropped the plants on the ground and leaned up against the wall. Aedan waited for the elf to respond, but the elf simply stood there struggling not to laugh. He held his hands at his side whilst little giggles escaped from his wrinkled lips._

_"Do you mind telling me what it is?" Aedan grew impatient. There was only so much diarrhea one could deal with in a given day, and Aedan had long past that limit._

_"Oh that. I've been poisoning your food." Teharel picked his teeth nonchantly with a wooden splinter. Aedan jaw's dropped and his hand twitched._

_"And why might I ask are you trying to poison me?" muttered Aedan as he tried his best not to sock the elf where he stood. He ground his teeth and took deep breathes. The only thing keeping him calm was the level of trust he had in Teharel. It was small, but still, he hoped the elf had his best interest at heart. The snickering did nothing to help that hope._

_"To strengthen your insides, boy. I'll have you know that I've been using some of my extra hours to grow some mighty fine herbs and flowers that'll keep your innards working hard, so you better be thankful." Teharel pondered for a moment, then turned his pockets inside out. "Some extra copper wouldn't hurt either."_

_"Thank you so much for poisoning me," seethed Aedan whilst imagining his hands around the elf's throat. In all likelihood however, if Aedan even tried a stunt like that he'd have bloody nose in a few seconds._

_"You should be honored. The Dalish don't just poison anybody. Only those we really like or those we really hate."_

_"And where do I stand in terms of that?"_

_"Officially, since you're a shemlen, I hate you. But unofficially-"_

_Teharel took a deep breath, and grinned at the young man. In the darkness, with the candlelight hitting his face at the right angle, Aedan could see the remnants of faded Dalish tattoos on his face. He almost looked like the wild men from the books Aedan had read as a child._

_"I hate you," whispered the elf with all the malice and love he could muster. "Really I'm just here for the pay."_

_"Weren't you just complaining about not having enough money?"_

_"Could always use some more booze. I need some sort of handicap when fighting you."_

_"I hate you too, Teharel."_

_The old elf slithered off to places unknown. Aedan could barely ever keep track of the old man. Had he learnt all his techniques and training from the Dalish, stealth, brute force, and all? Why would he, such a great warrior, be living in the Alienage?_

_Aedan's innards beckoned again with a low rumble. He would have plenty of time to mull over those questions, along with his father's documents, whilst in the restroom._

* * *

"Here we are...the Circle of Magi."

The tower stood alone in the foggy lake, only the tip clear amongst the vapors. A chill emanated through the air, and the wind ravaged the trees. Aedan could make out a faint light at the top of the tower that pulsed erratically. What was going on up there? He shivered as the wind brushed up behind him.

Sten narrowed his eyes at the tower in the distance. He clicked his tongue under his breath. "Interesting. You gather your most dangerous kind in one place, unrestrained, and it is a wonder that there is trouble there now?"

"You have a better solution, Sten?"

"In my land, we collar the mages and sew their mouths shut. It is suitable to contain their danger."

Aedan stared at Sten in shock. The nonchalant way that the Qunari had talked chilled him to his bones. To be able to talk that way of torture.

"That is...unsettling. You would treat another of your kind like that?"

"They cannot control their magic, regardless of training. Eventually, they would all succumb to the lures of forbidden spells and destroy us all." Sten glanced at Morrigan. "It is a mystery why your kind has not yet realized this yet. You have apostates and blood mages running about everywhere."

"I can hear you, and I do not care." Morrigan ignored Sten and Aedan. Her mood had soured towards Aedan over the last two days. When he had sat next to her at the fire, she ignored his attempts at conversation. She would scowl whenever she saw him sparring with Alistair. No more did she offer to train with him after that incident in the woods. Aedan rubbed his face and groaned. Women. What was it exactly he had done? Was it grappling her from behind, or just defeating her, or the words he said?

Or maybe the line had drawn far before, and that incident had simply been the straw that broke the drufallo's back. The witch had already seemed reluctant to come when Flemeth had offered her up. Whenever they camped, she situated her own tent far away from the others and made her own fireplace. Perhaps it was that Aedan got along well with his other companions, who all viewed Morrigan with suspicious- how long would it be before he turned on her?

Were they wrong to be so suspicious? She showed no mercy nor care for others. Why would she be fighting this Blight? Certainly Morrigan had no desire to save others. If she wanted to survive, she and her mother could just shapeshift to birds and fly off. There was a reason Flemeth had sent her, no doubt.

* * *

Robert, a new templar recruit, held his ear up against the barricaded main door of the Tower. Outside, he swore he could hear the whispers along with the howling of the wind. Then again, he could be imagining it- it had been weeks now since the demons had erupted. Robert yawned and covered his mouth, lest the Knight Commander hear. The man was irritable enough as it was without a demon invasion. Nobody had gotten any shut eye lately.

The door shook and splinters flew. Robert screamed and fell to the floor, scrambling up against a nearby pillar. Robert shook in fright. More demons? He fingers wrapped around his sword and his shaking arm raised it as high as he could towards the door. If only he had taken his vows a few weeks afterwards, then he wouldn't be in this bloody mess.

The wood barricading the door shattered as the doors flew open. Standing in the doorway were two armor clad fellows. Dirt and muck covered them, and they had no shine nor majestic designs to their armor and arms. Mercenaries perhaps, come for easy pickings? The one in front wore a haphazard array of armor- standard issue army chest and shoulders, with the leggings of a mercenary. He removed his dented helm to reveal a mist-slicked head of unkept black hair that covered his eyes. He rubbed his evergrowing stubble in concern as he looked around and spotted Robert. The unhelmed man approached Robert, who backed up even further against the pillar. The man held out his hand.

"Come on, soldier. Get up. If you're afraid of little old me, how the hell am I going to deal with these demons?"

Robert hesitated, before he took the man's hand. He hoisted Robert up and gave him a hearty handshake.

"I'm Aedan, of the Grey Wardens, and I need to see your commander." Robert, still somewhat shaken, gave a trembling nod and led Aedan and his group into the main room where the other templars resided.

There the most heavily armored templar turned to them, rubbing the bags under his eyes. "I am Knight-Commander Gregoir, and I demand to know just who the bloody hell are you? And why did Carol let you across?"

"We had some goods to offer him," shrugged Aedan.

Sten grumbled and crushed a paper bag filled with crumbs between his massive hands. The other templars whispered and looked at him. Sten turned to them. "Is there something you wish to say?" One of the recruits stammered, unable to find an answer. Sten snarled at him. "I thought so."

Aedan tried to focus on the problem at hand. "I'm a Grey Warden, and I seek assistance against the Blight." Aedan unfurled the ancient parchment. The Knight-Commander snatched it from him and scanned the document. "The Circle of Magi is honor bound to provide us with aid."

Gregoir sighed while he looked over the contract and signature. "Depsite our contract, at the moment we simply cannot help you. The tower is overrun by demons and abominations."

He motioned to all dead templars covered by blood splashed canvas. Tending to the wounded were the few alive, their armor dented and singed. One recruit lay motionless against the wall, his eyes empty and his breath slow.

"To think of all the innocent lives lost here...is too much. We have been pushed back all the way to the very lobby of the tower. There is no hope that any mages have survived. As such, we have called for the Right of Annulment."

Leliana widened her eyes. "You cannot mean to kill all of them?" The sister shook her head, Tthat cannot be. The mages are stronger than that. Have faith that the Maker looks out for His children."

"There is no one left to kill, only demons remain there."

Alistair stepped forward and, for the first time since Aedan met him, saw anger on his face. "You can't be serious, you can't just abandon the mages! You're a templar! It's your charge to protect them!"

"There are no more mages! Do you not understand! They're all dead. Our duty is to keep Fereldan safe from their magic, not sympathize with them."

Aedan turned to the Knight Commander. "You can't just-"

"What choice do I have?" screamed Gregoir, his calm mask thrown away. He grabbed Aedan by the front of his armor and shook him. Spit flew against Aedan's face. "My men are tired and wounded, and we cannot throw any more lives at these demons! No more!" Gregoir panted from his outburst and his eyes were filled with anguish. Aedan grimaced at the commander's demeanor. Is this what Loghain had felt like, that night at Ostagar? The burden of leadership seemed to bring nothing but pain and sleepless nights. Aedan hoped that it would not come to that for himself.

The templars couldn't help them. But a majority of Aedan's potential troops, templar or mage, was up in that tower. He couldn't give up. "Shit," muttered Aedan under his breath. There was only one course of action left. "We'll go in." Aedan clenched his fist and stared at the Knight Commander.

"What? You cannot be serious!"

Aedan steadied his voice and took slow breaths. "I am. I need this army, one way or another, and I was hoping to have a little firepower to go with it."

"There are abominations and demons in there! This is not some ragtag group of bandits or a scuffle with darkspawn. You cannot face them by yourselves."

"I can take whatever they throw at me. No matter what." Aedan drew his sword and put on his helm. He motioned for the templars by main door to open it. The two templars hesitated and looked to Gregoir for permission. Gregoir gazed upon the young man, who walked over to the door in silence. His companions followed him without a word and geared up. It was an indescribable feeling that Gregoir felt, and the sight of Aedan, sword drawn and ready to fight, brought only one word to his mind. Hope.

"Open it," barked Aedan.

"I can't tell if you're the bravest man I've met or the most foolish."

"Probably both."

Gregoir nodded to the two guards. They opened the doors, letting in the putrid stench of rotted flesh and fresh blood. Aedan scrunched his nose at the sickening smell. He had never before smelt anything this bad. Even the darkspawn camps at Ostagar had not smelt this bad. Perhaps it was a good thing that wolves had come to clean up those bodies; here in the tower, bodies had been rotting for weeks.

"May the Maker have mercy on your souls." Gregoir clutched a symbol of Andraste between his fingers.

The door slammed shut behind Aedan and the others.

"Sheesh, what a downer, am I right?" said Alistair, half joking, half riddled with fear at the blood on the walls.

Leliana traced her hand against the torn tapestries and the stained walls. "These poor people. It is sometimes hard to forget that the Blight is not the only threat to Ferelden."

A child's scream pierced the air. Aedan rushed to the source, further down the hallway. Demons surged around a group of mages and children. Suddenly, a burst of light struck them from the side. An elderly mage howled at them and shot another beam. The demons fell to the ground writhing. She blasted again, and they lay still. The old woman whipped around, the tip of her staff pulsating with waves of energy. Her robes were serene and well patterned, but ripped and clawed at by some manner of creature.

"Stay back," she panted, her face pale, "I'm warning you-"

Aedan recognized her. The woman from Ostagar who had closed his sword wounds. Apparently she too recognized him, for her expression softened. "It's you. The Grey Warden recruit. You're alive?"

"I'd ask the same of you. Seems like you managed to get out of Ostagar all right."

Aedan stepped forward, but the woman thrust her staff forward to keep him at a distance.

"Stay back. I don't know why you're here, but I can guess why. You've come to kill us, haven't you?" The woman eyed Aedan with suspicion and worry. Could he blame her, after all she had been through? But he had had enough with suspicion for his usual manners to pull through.

"No. I'm here to save your sorry asses."

"What? I'd think the templars wouldn't let anyone in unless to cull the tower."

"He did send for the Right of Annulment."

The woman's face dropped, and she shook her head at the floor. "So...Gregoir truly does believe the tower is lost. Do you?"

Aedan wasn't sure to be honest. He had seen the blood shed in the quarters, and heard the screams from up above. He saw the demons at Wynne's feet. How could anyone survive a horde of those? However deep down there was tiny part of Aedan that wanted to believed that not all hope was lost, and that was enough for him to say: "No, I think we can still save them."

Morrigan turned to him, disgust on her face. "You want us to assist these pathetic excuses for mages? They allow themselves to be corralled like mindless cattle. Now that their masters have sentenced them to death- I say let them have it."

Aedan rubbed his brow with his tired fingers. "Morrigan, would you rather have an army of you or an army of Alistair?"

"That is irrelevant-"

"And hurtful," added the templar.

"-because they do not even begin to stand up to me." Morrigan stared at him with a defiant look, gazing into his eyes. He stared back and decided to hold firm.

"I'm not going to stand by and let anybody die on my watch again. I'm not abandoning the mages. Are we clear, Morrigan?"

Morrigan scowled before turning away. "Have it your way." She disagreed with his sentiment, but respected when someone held their decisions. There was a pause in the air- the group did not know what to say to that quickly resolved conflict. The elderly mage moved first and stepped forward to Aedan.

"Allow me to come with you,"she said, "As a member of the Circle it's my duty to see its preservation. This barrier will not disappear unless I make it so."

Aedan nodded and was a little glad. She was perhaps the sanest person to ask to join them. He held out his hand.

"We haven't formally been introduced. I'm Aedan."

The woman reached out and shook Aedan's hand. "Wynne. Allow me to prepare for a few minutes and say my goodbyes."

Whilst Wynne said goodbye to the children and her fellow mages, Aedan looked over at the corpse of the abomination on the other side. He had seen nothing like it. the had bubbles of flesh and unworldly claws that twisted through its arm and hands. It's skin was as though it was bleached and broken by the darkness, leaving only the husk of what had once been a human or elf.

"Did you see those children there? Shivering and cold, and so afraid. I can't imagine the horrors they've been through."

Aedan grunted as he put his helm back on. Sweat and blood splattered the insides, and his own breath suffocated him. "You won't have to imagine, Leliana. We're about to face them."

Leliana hesitated and bit her lip, then asked. "Are you afraid?" She tried to peer inside the slit of his visor to see the face of their inscrutable leader, the stoic man who waltzed in to fight demons.

"No," lied Aedan.


	14. Death

_For a second, Eleanor thought that Aedan was his father. The young man was hunched over the desk, muttering about lumber contracts. His rumpled hair covered his eyes and face, masking his concentrated expression._

_Eleanor kissed her son on the forehead. "I thought someone didn't want to be a politician?"_

_"I don't. I'm just helping Father out until the kingdom stops rolling around like an overturned nug."_

_"Despite what you say, you're not terrible at it. For once your Father got some shut-eye last night, and we even received a little care package from that Bann you helped last week." Eleanor hoisted a package of meats and cheeses onto the table. Gregory wagged his tail and barked with drool dripping from his mouth._

_"He just wants more money. I'll not let him make me fat and complacent."_

_"What for?"_

_"He wants more guards for his fort. He keeps complaining about ghosts and demons on his borders. I'm going to be taking a look in a couple of weeks, but I think he's lying so he can get a chunk of the royal treasury to indulge in."_

_"And what makes you think he's lying?"_

_"The fact that he barely pays his guards anything for one, and just spends all that money on himself...or gift baskets." He scowled at the food arrangement. "The bastard didn't have the common courtesy to put in some smoked venison. If you're going to bribe someone, figure out what they like for goodness sakes." Aedan grumbled as he thought of smoked venison, his stomach churning at the thought._

_"Maker, you're just mad because he didn't include your favorites in there- still such a child," laughed Eleanor, "Don't burn bridges over a little meat. Even if the man is lying, try and be courteous._

_Aedan was still a little steamed during his sparring session with Teharel. He blocked a fist from the elf with his fist and delivered a hook to the elf's stomach. The elf reeled back and chuckled._

_"Well, you've gotten plenty good at hand to hand, I'll give you that. Care to try some weapons?"_

_When his parent had first found out Teharel had been teaching him to fight, they had been somewhat apprehensive, especially when they found Aedan bloody all over the face. After a few sessions however, once Teharel agreed to tone down the bodily harm (much to his displeasure), they could now train openly in the courtyard._

_Teharel tossed him a sword and shield. The sword Aedan nimbly caught but the shield he let fall to the ground._

_"Yeah...I don't do shields." The young man kicked the shield back. "Too much of a hassle."_

_"Too bad," said Teharel, "It'd suit you."_

_Aedan raised an eyebrow. This being one of the only positive things Teharel would ever say about him, and he would turn it down? Madness. "Why do you say that?"_

_"You tend to like to get in close and fight. You often times leave yourself vulnerable to attacks. You try to roll away and dodge, but your body structure and training make you more of an explosive strength type of warrior then a quick dodgy type. Granted, you're still quicker than the average person, but it's certainly not your best trait. So the best way for you to defend yourself is with a shield."_

_Teharel kicked the shield back, and this time Aedan caught it with his foot. "Today I'm going to start teaching you how to take a hit."_

_"You mean you weren't hitting me beforehand?" chuckled Aedan._

_"Oh, is the little shemlen going to cry because I punched him a few times?"_

_"Honestly, the diarrhea your herbs gave me was much worse than your little punches. Who knew that your fighting had gotten so bad that now your gardening is more deadly?"_

_"Hohoho," grinned Teharel, "the shemlen bites! I'm going to have to repay you for that one. Now, come and let's beat the shit out of you."_

_"Do you hear the things you say?"_

_Teharel laughed. "Unfortunately, I won't be the one hitting you today. I'm getting a bit old you see-"_

_"I can certainly see that."_

_The elf glared at Aedan. "So my bones are a little weaker than before. Luckily, my time among my Dalish brethren has not left me with a lack of ideas for makeshift traps and materials." circum_

_"So you are Dalish? I've kind of seen your tattoos, but they've faded a bit."_

_"I was a born a Dalish, yes. But circumstances forced me to move to the Alienage." He paused, his eyes gazing off softly into the distance. The elf seemed older at that moment, his limbs weak against the blow of the wind. His face wrinkled into a indecipherable expression. Aedan couldn't tell if it was regret or fondness._

_"Sorry. don't mean to pry into old business. Done is done." Whatever it was, Teharel no longer resided with the Dalish, and didn't need to_

_"Ah, it's alright." Teharel waved it off and leaned against the tree. "I've moved on from it anyway."_

_"Our clans, you see, are always on the move. The shemlens have never given us land of our own, so we had to sustain ourselves on the forests and the wild. Although, I would say we lived better than you humans in your city. The cool breeze of the forest, the rustle of the wind, the sounds of the animals beckoning to you- sublime."_

_His eyes shone as he continued on about the the lifestyle of the Dalish. Aedan could see it in his eyes that he truly missed it there. Perhaps his love of gardening arose from that._

_"We stopped nearby Denerim for awhile, to restock and visit relatives in the Alienage. My sister fell in love with an elf from the city. Eventually, she got pregnant, and decided to leave the clan. We tried to convince her to stay, but she rather enjoyed city life, with its hustle and bustle. It was a few years afterwards that I heard about her. She had died."_

_"I'm sorry." Aedan wasn't sure what to say, so he said the only thing he felt he could._

_"You don't have to be. You didn't know her." Teharel sighed. If he was torn up over his sister's death, he didn't show it._

_"What can I say? Both parents, killed in a race riot. My sister had thought to petition the city for more rights for the Alienage. The whole bunch of geniuses thought it would be a great idea to storm the Landsmeet hall. Didn't even stand a chance against the guards. I don't blame them. I'd be scared shitless if a whole bunch of humans came knocking at our doorstep yelling and screaming."_

_"But she left behind a little 2 year old. Sickly little thing. Couldn't even talk her outside for a walk before she got tired. I couldn't bring her back to the Dalish who were always on the move, no this girl needed to stay in the city, with someone who would take care of her."_

_Aedan remembered Teharel's smiling daughter who had cooked him breakfast and convinced him to give her father a job._

_"So your daughter I met at the Alienage is actually your niece?"_

_"Technically. For all intents and purposes, she's my daughter. I raised her, clothed her, kept her safe. I kept insisting her to call me uncle but she always called me "Papa"."_

_Teharel smiled warmly at the memory. "Now she doesn't have the same constitution problems, and she's even got a man to take care of now. The little brats grow up so fast. I still remember when she used to hang onto my pants leg everywhere." Teharel pushed himself off the tree and walked further into the forest. He sighed wistfully before turning back to Aedan and grinning that devilish grin of his. "Look at you. I bet you used to be small and innocent. And now I'm going to to hit you with a tree."_

_Aedan did a double take as Teharel disappeared into the forest. "I'm dead serious! Do you even listen to yourself and the shit you say?" he shouted through cupped hands. His mentor didn't reply, and Aedan followed after him, his head shaking._

_"Is that him," came a whisper in the trees after the two had left._

_"It is."_

_"What luck. At first I thought this plan of yours wouldn't succeed, with that mess at Bann Abelard's. Then Maric dies in a shipwreck within the week. The Maker smiles upon us. And then we find our little friend here by accident. You're absolutely sure?"_

_"Of course."_

_"It's a pity. He doesn't seem like such a bad fellow."_

_"He's not." A dark shadow took a deep breath in. "Come, we have much to do, Victor. We'll deal with him in time."_

_The leaves barely crackled as the shadowy man turned around towards the jutting mountains in the distance._

* * *

The foulest liquid bled from the heart of the abomination. Aedan heaved his sword out and crinkled his nose at the smell- musky and dark, like some rotted corpse that had lingered far too long. It bleed like no other creature he had seen- the blood oozed out thick and dark like molasses.

"It's horrible, isn't it? Knowing that these abominations used to be people," croaked Wynne. She tried to stay strong, but in her eyes turned away from the faces of the abominations when they had battled them. The twisted visages they faced were all once people she knew. It was a different horror then the darkspawn, one that struck a chord within Aedan.

"They were your family, weren't they?"

"All of them." Wynne gave a heavy sigh. It was almost too much for her to bear; her old frame trembled as she looked around at her once glorious home. Aedan clasped his hand on her shoulder. "We'll save them. I swear to you."

"Thank you," smiled Wynne, "Your hope warms these old bones."

Aeadn tiptoed through the corridor along the wall- every room they had encountered so far had some sort of demon in it, and it would be best not to let them see him. His back against the wall, Aedan's eyes peered at the ripped tapestries and disheveled rooms of the tower. Parts of it reminded of his home in Castle Cousland- the bookshelves with upside down books and hastily stuffed spaces, the wooden tables with bowls and spoons left unfinished. Curiously enough, there were few mage corpses. Most had been turned into abominations, but that certainly didn't account for all the mages. If they had all been turned, then the templars would have been overrun by the time they got there. Were there still mages putting up a fight somewhere in tower?

He rounded the corner, holding out his hand to signal his companions to wait. The air felt warmer in the next room, like a stifling steam. Something hid there. He held his shield out in front of him as he lunged into the room. Two rage demons rose from the walls and spat molten fire at him. It sizzled against the cold steel of Aedan's shield. Their molten assault could not stop him: Aedan trudged forward, taking the brunt of the attack. A flurry of ice hit the demons from the side, courtesy of Wynne. Aedan watched as their bodies turned snow white and their very skin crystallized. The demons relented and disintegrated to the floor.

The side doors burst open and a horde of abominations attempted to flank Aedan. Alistair cut off their approach and met them with a flurry of sword strikes. The abominations circled him, growling and hissing.

"A little help here?" Alistair grunted as he drove his sword into an abomination. Aedan barreled into the two behind him, knocking them to the ground in front of Sten.

"Try not to miss Sten," smirked Aedan. Sten ignored Aedan's jest and drove his sword into the abomination's head without replying. The skull exploded in a bloody mess of guts and bone. Morrigan blazed the other one, which lay writhing on the ground as it burned to death. Despite the ferocity of their attacks, the abominations lacked intelligence. They were simply driven by rage.

The question lingered in Aedan's mind- what the hell had happened here?

After several floors of abominations and stairs, the group tired. Aedan slouched up against the wall next to the Great Hall and turned to Wynne.

"Generally, I assume the Circle of Magi is not like this. What happened?"

"If only Uldred had not turned to blood magic, none of this wouldn't have happened."

"Uldred? I remember him...the bald mage at the war conference with Loghain."

"Yes, he tried to convince the Circle to back Loghain, but then I returned from Ostagar and told them all of Loghain's betrayal. After that, they tried to seize Uldred when he attempted to flee. He summoned a demon to defend himself and his fellow blood mages, but...it overwhelmed him."

Loghain again. Aedan's fist clenched at the thought of the man. "Why would he back Loghain? He saw what Loghain did, how he betrayed his own king? How could he think that Loghain could be trusted?"

"People are willing to believe anything to get what they want. Uldred believed that Loghain would grant the Circle more freedom from the Chantry."

His mind wandered to what sort of hardships would have led Uldred to commit such desperate acts. "It must be hard...being locked up here since childhood."

"It is," Wynne said. Aedan wasn't sure whether she was accepting or bitter. Perhaps both. "But sometimes circumstances necessitate such hardships- it protects the world from rogue magic, and protects us from a world that fears and hates us."

Aedan reached for the doorknob, but the door creaked open before he could touch it. Bodies surrounded a lone abomination in the middle of the room. Unlike the rest of the tower, these bodies were not bloodied and broken- they instead lay limp, their eyes blank and their face expressionless.

"Well well. Visitors? why not come and take a rest?" came the demon's whisper. It grated against Aedan's ear, yet oddly soothed him at the same time. Alistair eyed the demon suspiciously and circled around to the side, his shield out. The fact that the demon hadn't attacked them yet set Alistair on edge.

"Shut up," barked Aedan who held his sword out. A twisted smile fell across the abomination's face, and the world began to ever so blur around Aedan. The tapestries seemed to flow like rivers, twisting in his field of vision like swirled ribbons.

"Maker, I'm tired," yawned Leliana, who crumpled to the ground abruptly.

"Leliana," Aedan tried to yell, but his voice came out only as a soft whimper.

"Demon, I shall not fall victim to-". The floor shook as Sten collided with the tower floor. It woke Aedan up a little, enough for him to muster up some willpower. He struggled against his own body and took a step forward.

"Resistant are we? Stop, you are so tired. Just sleep."

Aedan looked at another limp body on the ground. A black haired mage lay there, his cheeks gaunt and his skin pale. He seemed dead, but at the same time, his lungs ever so softly breathed in air. Contrary to his limp body, the man's hand clenched around a bloodied scroll.

Alistair kneeled on the ground, chanting something to keep his concentration, but he too soon fell. Now only Morrigan, Wynne, and Aedan barely stood. Morrigan clawed up against a nearby pillar and spurted at the demon, "Do you think your magic can hold us demon?" Her hands glowed with her fury, and Aedan could feel the heat from where he stood.

The demon smiled and twiddled his fingers. Morrigan slumped up against the pillar and closed her eyes.

Wynne held her hand out at Aedan. Her staff dropped to the ground. "Stop...him..." She leaned forward and pushed Aedan ahead by several steps before she too succumbed.

Aedan took another step closer to the smiling abomination. Everything was a blur now, safe for the demon's smug face. He reached the demon and raised his sword, but his arm went numb. Move, he willed his arm, move! But it trembled in the air and his sword felt as heavy as bricks. The demon took one step towards Aedan and stared into his eyes. "You're so tired, aren't you? Just sleep." He flicked Aedan's sword and it clattered to the ground. The world spun around Aedan in a dizzying blur of blood, red and purple. His knees buckled and his head struck the ground.

"Crap," he muttered as everything went black. In that black oblivion, right before he fell asleep, he could hear the footsteps of the demon as it walked up to him. It could have simply shouted at the top of it's lungs, or stayed silent, but it chose to to kneel next to him and whisper in his ear words that sent a chill down his spine:

"Welcome to the nightmare."


	15. Dreams

_Now, we gathered a lot of our food from the forest, and hunted many a wild beast. One was not considered to be a man until you brought back the pelt of a beast." Teharel pushed aside the tree branches as he guided Aedan further into the forest. He halted and pointed up into the foliage._

_Aedan stared at the contraption before him. A tree trunk, parallel to the ground, suspended by ropes that jutted into the trees above. He bit his tongue and dabbed a bit of sweat from his forehead._

_"Now, I was quite ambitious back in the day. Dertaru, the biggest damn bear you'd ever meet. Claws like swords, and a blood rage like a dragon." Teharel slapped the trunk, and it swayed back and forth. The trees up ahead groaned under the weight. "Other had tried taking it down with arrows and swords, and had come back wounded, or worse. The wretched thing was eating all the animals in the forest. The clan was starving. So I rigged up this baby, pulled her all the way back, and let nature do its thing. Hit the bear clean in the jaw. The damn thing didn't die, but it gave me enough time to get in there and finish the job."_

_Aedan watched the swaying trunk. "So now you're going to hit me with this."_

_"Don't think of it as me hitting you. Think of it as nature hitting you."_

_"That makes me feel so much better, Teharel."_

_"So you're going to stand here-"_

_Teharel moved Aedan with his hand to an x on the ground. The front end of the log loomed in front of him._

_"Now, hold your shield up."_

_Aedan grumbled and did as he was told. The metal shield felt foreign in his hands. Too heavy, too big. He felt half as fast, half as deadly._

_"Here's the important thing- when it comes swinging at you, use your legs. Feel the earth pushing you. Push back, and it will respond. The earth which we all come from, and which we all return to. That's where the power comes from." His words had strange philosophical undertone that Aedan hadn't seen from him before._

_Sweat rolled down his face as Teharel walked away, towards the device. The log stared him in the face. Unwavering, unforgiving, fearless. Aedan felt silly for thinking this, but he had never faced anything like this. Here he was, afraid of a tree._

_Several seconds later, his face flat on the ground and his arm numb, he no longer felt silly for thinking that._

* * *

Sunlight glinted against Aedan's face. His eyes cracked open as he groaned. How long had he been asleep? Aedan turned his head left and right. He was surrounded by the rustic stone walls of an ancient fortress. The Grey Warden banners hung proudly from each and every corner. The lively chatter of people filled the air. Scholars paced down the halls, scrolls stuck in the crook of their elbows. Warriors shared meals and laughs over long banquet tables.

The stone bench he lay on felt warm, and Aedan almost didn't want to get up. Had he been napping? He hadn't taken a nap in ages- not since-

Right before Aedan could finish that thought, a familiar voice sprung from behind him, and a hand clasped his shoulder.

"Aedan! There you are!"

Aedan spun around. There, with a jolly grin plastered across his bearded face, was Duncan. The man was no longer dressed in aged leather armor, but now in the silken robes of a scholar.

"Duncan? But aren't you dead?"

"Dead?" laughed Duncan, "What are you talking about child?"

His mind halted. What was he talking about? Why would Duncan be dead?

"Is my family here?"

"Of course! But come, let us feast!"

"Come on, hero, let's feast!"

Their shouts faded as Aedan stated, "That's a lie."

He could still see it. The images that had haunted his dreams ever since that fiery night. Still in his mind. Oren's lifeless body, his warmth and smile stolen by the daggers of envious men. Oriana, body filled with wounds from protecting her son in vain. The pool of blood that formed beneath his father's trembling body. The tears in his mother's eyes as he left her.

His heart raced, and his breathing accelerated. Where the hell was he? He looked at the face beside him. Ser Jory. Duncan drove his sword through him. He looked to his left. Ser Daveth. His eyes dead like fish as he lay on the floor, a dribble of blood running down his face.

Duncan. Duncan was dead. This was a dream. Aedan shot up and held his sword out, waving at the three Wardens. "Stay back! This isn't real. You're all supposed to be dead! The Blight is still a threat."

"Aedan, calm yourself. There is no Blight to concern yourself with. The Darkspawn are gone. And besides," said Duncan with a smile, "how can I be dead? I'm standing right here."

"No," muttered Aedan, "I need to get out of here." He stood still, his heart racing, his sword outstretched toward Duncan's neck. Slowly, every so slowly, Duncan's smile faded into a scowl. He drew his daggers. Jory and Daveth grimaced. "Very well then. If you shall not accept peace, then we shall have to put you down."

His daggers sliced through the air towards Aedan's heart. The young man parried the blow with his sword, and slammed Duncan backwards with his shield. When Aedan swung his sword, it felt like he was trudging through water. Every movement he made felt sluggish. His eyelids drooped. He just wanted to sleep.

But the people who came towards him were hazy, not real. He knew that. He swung once, and their true forms began to reveal themselves. Wisps of darkness flowed from their demonic limbs. The face of Duncan contorted and twisted into an amalgamation of flesh and blood- a face that Aedan knew all too well as a demon.

Demon. He had been fighting demons. There had been a Sloth Demon.

The three leapt onto him, clawing at his armor. Aedan let loose, cleaving his sword in wild arcs. His blood surged whilst his sword met flesh in a dance of carnage. The adrenaline was kicked in and the haze of drowsiness that plagued him faded. With each blow he landed, with each blow he took, the sensation and strength returned to his limbs. Once their bodies lay on the ground, any doubts that this dream was real had disappeared.

Aedan knew what he had to do now. His comrades. He had to find them.

As soon as he thought that, a pedestal of twisted metal and wood spurted from the ground. Aedan approached it, hesitance in his step. Perhaps another trap, but he had no other choice. He brushed his fingertips across the surface, and the world alit.

* * *

The landscape twisted and contorted around him. Boats floated, golden dust permeated the air, and strange plants sprouted from the scaled ground. A man huddled beneath what seemed to be a tree. He stared despondently into the vast, unending distance.

"Hello?" Aedan waved his hand in front of the man. It took him a few moments to get up and respond. He seemed weary and tired, like an old man.

"Hello," muttered the man, "so he got you too?"

"The demon, yes."

Aedan's mind clicked. He recognized the man."You...were on the floor in the room."

"You may call me Niall. So the demons haven't eaten my body yet. Small comfort. Tell me stranger, was I holding something in my hand?"

"A scroll."

"The Litany of Adrella," the man said, a glimmer in his eye, "The key to defeating Uldred. It can cancel out his attempts to convert mages into abominations."

"Then I'm going to need that when I get out of here." Aedan surveyed the vast distances of the Fade. "Do you know how to get out of here?" He turned back to Niall, who had a bitter look on his face.

"If I knew, do you think I'd be sitting here?"

Niall pointed behind Aedan. A portal- it swirled and pulsed with energy, like nothing Aedan had ever seen before.

"It's no good. It'll take you...places. You won't be able to get past. I've been trying for so long...how long has it been?"

"I'll find a way," stated Aedan, staring Niall right in the eyes. His piercing eyes filled with rage and determination scared Niall. He hadn't seen such emotion in the Fade, or outside of it, in awhile.

Niall smiled sadly. "Maybe you will. Maybe you won't. It's good to see that this place hasn't drained you of everything yet. Good luck."

* * *

For the first time, Aedan thought he saw Alistair genuinely happy. In fact, it was the first time he had seen the man not in armor. Alistair, clothed in the simple drab of a commoner, sat round a table with several children, eating a warm home cooked meal.

"Alistair. We need to go." Aedan didn't know what to say besides that. He didn't want to ruin the man's happiness, but they had a job to do.

"But my sister made pie!" pleaded Alistair, sounding almost like the children next to him, "Come on, join us and the family!" He patted the seat next to him, looking at Aedan with expectant eyes.

"Family?" The word took Aedan aback. It had a sour ring to it.

A slightly older woman in a stained apron handed out slices of pie to Alistair and her children. Her smile was as warm as the apple pie which Alistair dug into. Bits of crumbs and apple fell from his chin. The templar mumbled something to Aedan through a mouthful of pie. The scene reminded Aedan of his own dinners. He shook off the thought and grabbed Alistair by the arm. Such a familiar scene sent a pang through his chest, and they had little time as is.

"Alistair. This is a dream. Remember- the tower, the demons?"

"What are you talking about? Come sit down!"

"Remember what we're doing. We need to stop this Blight. Avenge Duncan."

The templar's face twitched at the name. His fork slipped out of his hand and stabbed into the floor below. Alistair cringed in pain as his head filled with the memories of templar blood and demonic hordes. "The Circle of Magi- Duncan- "

He fell to the floor, clutching his head, whilst the children and the aproned woman surrounded him, malicious looks on their face. "You shall not take him from us!" they hissed at Aedan, their limbs and figures distorting into twisted flesh.

Like a blur Alistair swung his sword, which had materialized to his side, at the woman. She hissed at him and in a explosion of dust and darkness her true visage revealed itself. Her demonic tendrils wrapped itself around his arm, her fangs glistened at the templar's anguished face. Alistair stared into the face of what had once been the image of his sister. He hesitated, before driving his sword into her belly.

It took every fiber of Aedan's being to fight against his natural instinct, to not attack the children. "Uncle Alistair, help us!" they screamed. Aedan kicked one of them into the table. "Show yourself demon. I'll have none of your tricks." The child twisted and swirled into another demon. Aedan struck the demon in the head with the sword, then hacked at it in the chest.

Alistair and Aedan had made short work of the demons, leaving the two panting for air. "I...Thank you."

And now Alistair's face had returned to its usual smile. Not his true smile. Not like when he was smiling with the children. It strained over his face; Subtly forced, yet still believable. Aedan had to wonder: if he was not in the wardens, where would Alistair be. Had he too been robbed of his family?

He glanced over at the disintegrating demons, the dust of their bodies floating in the hazy light of the Fade. It reminded Aedan Jory and Daveth's funeral pyre. It had been only a month since he had met them, and only a little less since they had died. His own dream had brought their faces back to his thoughts.

* * *

Aedan thudded to the ground, and surprisingly it did not shake. Despite being a lumbering golem made of solid rock, his collision had been quiet. Getting the hang of these forms had been difficult. He had flailed around several times when he had first entered the burning man form, afraid that he would burn up. The experience was surreal- his body was not his own, but at the same time it was. Was this how Morrigan felt when she shapeshifted?

Craggy rock hands pushed up his colossal body. In a flash of light his true body returned. There, sitting by a fire was Sten. Aedan spotted him rather easily; the other qunari were simply ghostly wisps of true people. To his surprise, almost all of them were horned. He had thought that Qunari were simply bigger versions of humans. The company sat around the fire, swapping stories and cooking rations. Sten's face, for once, looked content. Not the usual stern expression he usually had on, but something softer and less tired.

"Sten, do you remember me?" asked Aedan.

"Yes, Warden, I know you. You do not need to tell me this is a dream."

"Oh." Aedan peered at the other two qunari, who slung insults and curses his way. Their horns unsettled him- it reminded him of the darkspawn ogres. "Why haven't you tried to escape?"

"Tis a good dream. Of better times." Sten looked over his shoulder at the other two horned qunari.

"You done talking to the runt yet, or am I going to have to eat your share of the jerky?" chuckled one of the others. Aedan wasn't aware Qunari could chuckle.

"We need to go, Sten. I'm sorry."

"Why? Where has struggling and effort ever gotten me? To dishonor, slaughter, disgrace. Leave me."

Aedan grabbed Sten by the collar and pulled him towards him. "So what if the world's stepped on you? So what if you have no honor, your company's dead, and you've been disgraced? We've all got our doubts, but we have a job to do, Sten."

Aedan shoved. Sten fell to the ground. He looked up at Aedan, startled; the human stood taller then him at that moment. Aedan tossed Sten's greatsword to his side. "Pick up your sword and hurry up. We're wasting time here."

The qunari growled, but picked up his sword. His comrades frowned and began to circle him. "Thank you...for that," said the Qunari. He gripped the hilt and ground his teeth. He took one last look at his former comrades and swung his sword at them.

* * *

Aedan stumbled out of the light onto the ground. He had taken a slice to the leg in Wynne's dream. He had began to think that the dreams were the true wishes of its dreamer- keeping trapped in blissful thrall. Alistair and his family. Sten and his comrades. He had seen Leliana, draped in the clothes of the Maker, shining with happiness and serenity. He could not believe that it was the same person who could fight alongside him, covered in blood and gutting demons.

Then he had seen Wynne's dream, and he knew it was not the wishes of the dreamer. The bodies of her apprentices lay before her, Wynne wept. She kneeled there, sobbing, shaking. Aedan had tried to convince her otherwise, that it was all just a dream. She just gave him the saddest look, despair piercing his heart. And when the mages had risen up, demonic shadows of what they once were, Wynne shook in terror as she watched Aedan effortlessly take them down.

"Wynne," he had said. She stared at him with those eyes. Those were not the eyes who had shone with hope, that day when she had healed his sword wounds.

"I...I will be fine," she had sputtered.

Aedan remembered clearly, as he placed his hand on her shoulder, the look on her face. Partly shock, but also relief as well. She teared up a bit. Aedan stepped in and pulled her into a hug. They had stood there silent. A brief respite from the chaos.

"It'll be alright. It's okay," he whispered. Her frail body had stopped shaking. He didn't know how such a old woman, so frail and thin, could be so strong to hold out for as long as she did. Slowly, she had faded out, leaving empty space within Aedan's grasp.

And now, the one person who confused him more then anything. Perhaps her dream would shed some light on her. However, he only saw the black haired mage arguing with her mother.

"Morrigan."

She turned to him. "Ah. There you are- please, free me from this insufferable creature."

"You know this is a dream?"

"Yes, tis obvious. Come on, get rid of the old hag."

"How dare you talk to your Mother like this!" shouted the fake Flemeth, spit flying from her mouth.

"You are not my Mother, demon. Shoo, begone." Morrigan waved off the imitation of Flemeth like one would wave off a fly. It grew angry and grabbed her by the arm. "You will stay here, with me."

"Oh, I doubt that," muttered Aedan. A familiar light blinded Morrigan, and she saw in Aedan's place a golem. His rocky hands wrapped around the demon. It discarded the disguise, writhing around within his fist. It began to seep through his fingers, so Aedan brought his other hand into his fist, killing the creature with resounding slap. He willed himself back into his true form, standing in front of Morrigan.

"Interesting...you can shapeshift in the fade," muttered Morrigan, peering at him. She couldn't help but be intrigued. "Yet you are not a mage. Wonder of wonders." She realized that she was examining Aedan too closely. She turned away, and returned to her frosty demeanor. She brushed some of the demon's entrails off her shoulder."You couldn't have killed it in a more tasteful way?"

"Do I at least get a thank you for saving you?" He looked around for the spirit font. Where was it?

Morrigan scoffed, crossing her arms. "Tis your job. If anything, you should have been faster."

That was it. Aedan had been through countless puzzles and confusing buildings in the Fade. He had faced demons, abominations, burning men, and all sorts of monstrosities here. He had been running around saving everyone, and here Morrigan was unwilling to make his life easy in anyway- she wouldn't escape herself, she wouldn't cooperate, she just wouldn't say the things she felt. Aedan whipped around. "Morrigan, I don't know what the hell your problem, but just say it, damn it. One of the things I actually liked about you was your honesty, so no more of this roundabout bullshit."

Morrigan blinked in shock. Twas the first time anyone had gotten mad at her since her Mother back in the wilds. They had shown intolerance, or simply disdainful looks, but never outright anger. The shock subsided before she resumed her usual sour expression.

"You want my honest opinion? Fine." Morrigan stepped in and jabbed Aedan's chest with her finger. "I don't trust you. You collude with that templar, you side with the Circle and their mages, and you hold a dagger to my face. My mother sent me with you, yes, and for some reason believes that you are trustworthy enough, but I see no reason. Trust is earned, not a given."

Was that why she was acting so cold? Aedan had just thought she was just a sore loser, but apparently it was something else. Trust. She had never had any family beyond Flemeth, and even then she did not speak of her mother with the greatest opinion.

"Morrigan, just because I'm helping the Circle and collaborate with Alistair doesn't make me a supporter of what they and the Chantry do. Things are rarely as simple as black and white."

Morrigan thought of her own intentions, her own plans. "I suppose that's true," she grumbled, but her arms remained crossed and she still stood a distance away from Aedan.

"And as for that incident back in the forest...I'm s-"

Before Aedan could finish his sentence, Morrigan began fading out like Alistair and the others.

"No, no, what is this? I do not want to deal with-"

The light flashed, and Morrigan was gone. In her place was a final spirit font. Aedan brushed his hand over the surface, and the lines and cracks lit up like a star. In another burst of light, Aedan was gone.


	16. Nightmare

_It all burned. The houses crumbled. Smoke billowed from the ruins. If you listened close enough, you could hear the screams. Teharel could always hear them though._

_"Teharel." The muscled man beside him clasped Teharel's shoulder. "we need to go." Teharel turned to the others- hooded, like him. To be found meant all their work would fail. "We've already planted the evidence."_

_"The job's not done yet." The elf unsheathed his sword and struggled to look for stragglers. He and his companions stood on the cliff, overlooking the destruction. In the distance, two men ran into the neighboring forest. Teharel watched them scurry- they looked so small, like ants. He could crush them beneath his foot so easily, even if they weren't ant-sized. Puny, weak shemlens._

_"No survivors."_

_The elf lept off the cliff into the burning hell beneath him. But he never hit the bottom. The world blurred to pure flame. Suddenly, his body reverted. His wrinkles returned, as did the pain in his chest. The fire surged around him, searing his flesh. Teharel screamed to no avail. He fell, deeper and deeper into his hell._

_"Ninety-six!"_

_The elf shot up, nearly spilling his drink. For once, he only held water in his hands. He gulped down the soothing liquid. Cool, refreshing, and pure. The sun battered down on the courtyard. Sweat stained Aedan's brown training shirt. Rarely did Highever boil like this- their position in the north meant snowy days and cold winds. Teharel had insisted that despite the heat, Aedan continue his daily training regime. The sun glinted off his sword and his eyes burned from the light and the sweat that dripped down._

_"Ninety-seven!"_

_"Bet you were just hoping I'd stay asleep, didn't you," chuckled Teharel._

_"Ninety-eight!" Aedan ignored the elf and trudged on. He raised his sword upwards again. The feet, Teharel had taught him, must be light when moving, yet rooted in the ground when absorbing blows. To be able to switch between the two meant his feet needed to be agile and strong. Aedan spun to his back, slicing his sword diagonally. His feet danced beneath him as he turned again. His sword swung upwards from his side, and his foot slammed into the ground as hard as he could._

_"Really don't want to practice with the tree again, do you?" Teharel noticed the bruises from the last time hadn't healed yet._

_"Ninety-nine!"_

_"Are you afraid of it?"_

_"One hundred!" The sword dropped to the ground, as well as Aedan. Only the thought Nan's cooking afterwards had gotten him through that last set. His stomach growled for its reward. "Am I afraid of getting hit by what is essentially a battering ram used to break down doors? You tell me," Aedan shot back at the relaxing elf._

_"Look at you, little scaredy cat," teased the elf. Teharel without looking flicked a pebble at Aedan. He missed. "But that's good you're scared."_

_"Funny, I'd thought you'd be telling me to be fearless."_

_"Only fools are fearless."_

_Aedan looked at the elf. The old coot seemed like the type barrel headfirst into a battle and overwhelm his enemies. He didn't have anything to fear. "Why do you say that?"_

_"There's both rational and irrational fear. Irrational fear is that thing your mother has about that if I don't water her petunias each day they'll die." Teharel scoffed at the thought of it._

_"That's just you being lazy."_

_Teharel ignored Aedan and continued on. "Rational fear is something like being afraid of leaping into a fire."_

_"You afraid of fire?"_

_"Fire hurts, kiddo. Fire hurts like hell. I'm telling you this, one way I do not want to go is getting incinerated to death. I've had enough fire in my lifetime."_

_The elf closed his eyes and slunk against the tree trunk. Aedan thought he saw the man flinch._

_"What you're feeling is rational fear. I'd be asking your father to get your head checked out if you weren't afraid of the tree ramming you. By the Dread Wolf, it's a battering ram aimed right at you. Fear means you can sense danger."_

_"So what should I do?"_

_"Don't be fearless. Accept the fear. It's there. Don't let it control you. Let it simply be a companion, at your side, always. Sometimes it's right, sometimes it's wrong._

_"And how do you know how to listen to it? When it bribes you?" joked Aedan. As of late, bribes had been piling up at their doorstep. He had been neglecting some of the work he had taken on, and would soon have to deal with it._

_"You'll know." The elf nodded, his eyes still closed. Aedan wondered what went on in that head of his, what adventures he relived in his memories. Teharel groaned and stretched his arms out before pushing himself up._

_"So tell me," asked Teharel, "will you be able to stop the ram as of now?"_

_Both knew the answer. Aedan had his pride; he didn't want to say it. Teharel sighed and proceeded towards the forest._

_"You know it's going to hurt. Shall we set up the ram regardless?"_

_Aedan picked up his shield._

* * *

"How very very interesting." The arcane horror's robes fluttered as it glided towards him. Its long slender arms draped down at its side. The demon's rotted face stretched backwards, and yellow beast-like teeth revealed itself. Aedan wasn't sure, but he thought the creature might be smiling.

"Where are my friends?" Aedan pointed his sword at the demon. The demon reached out and poked the edge of the sword as though it were a toy, chuckling as he did so. He did not bleed- his hands were skeletal, save for the decrepit skin patches stretched over it.

"Right here."

He waved his hands, then Aedan's companions reappeared in a blink of her eye. "That was...interesting," Leliana muttered, brushing off her leather armor, "I have not experienced much magic in my time."

"I'd really rather not do that whole 'children turning into demons' thing again, thank you very much," piped in Alistair.

Aedan narrowed his eyes at the demon, gripping his sword harder. "Why would you bring them back? You know we're just going to kill you."

"I suggest slowly. And painfully," growled Morrigan. Sten for once nodded in agreement and drew his sword.

The demon gave a hearty chuckle. Aedan crossed his arms and waited for the answer. A sigh escaped the demon's mouth. "Again with the killing. Aren't you tired? Look, your friends are here. Come now, let us return you to your dream of the Wardens- your friends can stay there too. Isn't that what you want? To defeat the Blight and live like a hero?"

Aedan's brow furrowed. Silence was his answer.

"Then again, if that was what you wanted, you wouldn't have broken free from your dream by yourself. I do so apologize for not delving deeper into your mind to find the right dream. Come, tell me, what is it you desire?"

"I want you to die. I want out of this dream."

"But reality can be so painful."

"Apparently so can your dreams. I noticed some of my companions in nightmares, and some lost souls along the way."

"Well, that's just to corral the troublemakers- break their will. But after they are complacent, I let them live the rest of their days in happiness. Is that such a bad thing, regardless of whether or not it's real?"

The young man paused. Aedan's sword slid back into its sheath. The demon smiled. Aedan smiled back.

A flash of light staggered the demon. Aedan's rocky golem fist slammed into the demon's face. The demon flew back into the mountain wall- the impact sent rocks tumbling and flying. The sloth demon's spiney fingers rubbed its neck whilst it emerged from the rubble.

"Very well, two can play at that game." Darkness enveloped the demon's body, twisting and augmenting his form. The rank drool of an ogre dripped down onto Aedan's head. He looked up to see the smiling giant staring back. Two ogre hands shot from the skies above. Aedan met them with his own and the two struggled in a standstill. Aedan's feet scraped against the ground as he was pushed backwards more and more.

"Aedan!" shouted Wynne, "Get ready!" She struck the ground with her staff. A wave of icy lances jutted from the ground. The ogre stumbled and winced; blood dribbled down his pierced legs. Aedan kicked ogre's legs from under him, and forced him down with his hands. Ice ripped through the ogre's chest. An anguished howl shot through the air. Aedan raised both fists above his head, then slammed down down upon the creature's chest. Another icicle tore through the ogre's chest, grazing the side of Aedan's head.

"This is my realm mortal- do you think you can best me at my own game?" coughed the demon. Aedan grasped the ogre's horns, and ripped the creature from the icicles. The ogre's face slammed against the mountain side, once, twice, three times. Aedan tossed him to the ground. Flesh shifted into flame. Molten hands dragged themselves up from the fiery corpse. Lava dripped from furious eyes.

Streams of lava seeped into Aedan's rock legs and began to dissolve them. He screamed in agony- it felt as though his very flesh had been boiled down. His hands smashed together. The force of the wind delayed the demon's approach. Aedan's knees gave way, and his golem form tumbled to the ground. In a flash of light, a burning skeleton rose from the lava.

"Fight fire with fire, eh?" muttered Aedan. With a roar the two fiery beings charged at one another.

Metal and lava clashed in a barrage of blows. Claws mauled Aedan's ribcage. Aedan almost passed out from the sheer heat and pain. He gritted his teeth, holding back the molten horror whilst Morrigan and Wynne assaulted it with a flurry of icicles. Sten, Alistair, and Leliana fended swarms of abominations that surrounded them from all sides.

"You could stay here...and be happy for the rest of your days. All that lies ahead for you is pain and sufferin- GH!"

Aedan had thrust his sword into the demon's face. His hands left the hilt, and plunged into the very insides of the rage demon. The insides pulsed and burned. He gripped onto what seemed to be the inner skeleton. Aedan roared as he began to pull the demon in two. It writhed and clawed at his face. Lava spewed all over Aedan. In one final pull, Aedan ripped the demon in two. The two halves spilled to the floor, bubbling. The bubbling intensified, until at least the demon's original form rose from the ground. No longer did it speak with its calm demeanor, instead heaving and hissing. The horror flew at Aedan, slashing at him.

"Why do you continue to struggle- isn't that the point of life? To be happy?"

The demon smashed into Aedan's skeletal face, knocking his jaw clean off. Aedan fell to the ground, clutching his throbbing face. His flames wavered. Instinctively, Aedan released his shapeshift. He sputtered on the floor, a stream of blood oozing from his mouth. Everything slowed. He watched an abomination knock Alistair to the ground, and another two swarm Leliana whilst she tried to shoot them down. Sten slammed his sword into the ground, staggering the attackers. A swipe from behind sent him reeling to the ground. Morrigan and Wynne struggled to hold back the hordes with their magic.

"There there now, " hissed the demon, "it's over now." It wrapped its bony fingers around his neck. Aedan gasped for air as the demon dragged his limp body upwards, bringing his face closer and closer to those dead eyes.

"Broken at last, I see. How about we choose a more suitable dream for you?" The demon exhaled a rank breath, before cackling, "But considering what trouble you've given me, perhaps a nightmare would be more suitable."

Aedan's breath hastened to a frantic pace as the demon's fingers squeezed his skull. He couldn't even scream. It felt like a sword was slicing his brain. The demon lingered and smiled at the man's anguish. His rotted face came in closer, until his eyes stared into Aedans, boring into his soul.

His voice slithered in Aedan's ear, barely a whisper. "You never saw them die, did you? That divine moment when their eyes go cold."

Everything stopped. He couldn't feel the pain anymore. Those words scraped against his skull like thousand daggers.

He wouldn't, thought Aedan.

"I would," breathed the demon.

Then he saw their faces. The guards. The swords. Their pleas. Their tears. Their blood.

The Cousland blood within him erupted.

His hands clutched the wrist holding him. With a sickening crunch, Aedan crushed it beneath his grip. The demon's bones splintered and tore through his hands. He fell to the ground and wrapped his throbbing hand around his sword. The sword ran red as Aedan held it in a death grip.

Aedan razed the demon with a tempest of blows. Fury filled each strike as Aedan hacked away at the demon. It sputtered, tried to talk, but Aedan struck it down each time. The abominations faded away as the demon weakened. Aedan let loose no roars and no speeches of defiance. His blood seared against his veins. His heart drummed and screamed for blood.

The mutilated demon backed away, limping across the floor. Aedan looked upon the demon as it cowered on the ground. He stomped on one of the legs. It crunched beneath his boot and the demon wailed. Aedan relished the moment and ground the leg even more. Reality and the dream world flickered before his eyes. He could see the Great Hall, the bodies on the floor. He stood, and the abominations true body lay before him. The demon lay pinned beneath his sole. The demon's face contorted as he watched Aedan point his sword towards the sky.

"I'll give you whatever fantasy you want. A harem, a kingdom, anything!" it gurgled.

The tip of Aedan's sword arced downwards. Air howled against rushing steel. The tip scraped against the rocky ground as it sliced the demon's neck. Blood and sparks flew against Aedan's bitter face. The demon's face rolled, rolled, then stopped. It stared at Aedan with that final, pitiful, horrified expression. Something twisted in the gut of his stomach. He only caught his breath for a few moments before the ground shook beneath. The mountain began collapsing upon itself- the buildings and structures of the Fade disintegrated into golden dust. They had killed the dream.

You...you did it," came Niall's exhilarated voice. The mage fully materialized then ran up to Aedan, looking around at the crumbling dream. "We're free." His expression changed from joy to one more solemn, a sad smile falling across his face. "I...you need to take the Litany."

Aedan leaned over, resting his hands on his knees while taking in slow, tired breaths. "Come take it yourself, Niall. We're free, remember?"

Niall looked down. His feet flickered and soon his shoes and toes had already dissolved into the golden dust. "I can't. It's been too long. My body is dead."

Aedan couldn't find the words to comfort Niall. Here Niall was, moments from dying, watching himself dissolve into oblivion. He had most likely never seen the blood of battle and never expected to die at the hands of demon- and yet he had still risked it all, just to save the Circle. "Then thank you. For finding the Litany," said Aedan.

The mage sheepishly grinned and rubbed the back of his head. "It's better off this way anyways. I'm not a hero like you." He tried to laugh it off, but his eyes betrayed his unease.

Aedan stepped forward and the clasped the man's shoulder. "In the end, Niall, it's because you found the Litany that we'll be able to stop Uldred." He nodded and wiped the blood from face. "You did good."

The dream shattered, the sky fragmenting back into the Great Hall. Niall's faint form faded out, until all that was left was a brighter smile and his final words.

"Thank you, friend."

* * *

And he could see the world again. Aedan looked down to see the gory mess at his feet. He brought his hands to his face- clean, save for the wounds he had received before the Fade.

"So, I think we all have to agree that was an interesting experience," said Alistair. He patted himself down and traced the features of his face. "Good, everything is still here."

"Never doing that again." Aedan scraped the demon entrails off his boot.

"You okay there, you seemed a little...angry at the end there-"

"I'm fine," lied Aedan, who gave up on his efforts to clean his boot. The demon blood had soaked through the metal- he hadn't known that was possible. He approached Niall's body. It lay there- limp and atrophied, a blank stare on his face. Aedan kneeled down and brushed Niall's eyelids down. He slid the scroll from the man's hand.

"The Litany of Adrella. We need only to recite it to interrupt any dark magic that Uldred may throw our way," explained Wynne. Aedan turned and held out the scroll.

"You should handle this Wynne. The words look complicated, and I wouldn't be too sure when he's casting the spells."

Wynne grasped the scroll and scanned over its contents. Leliana peered over her shoulder. The red haired woman's lips rapidly mouthed the words, with barely a whisper escaping her them.

"Are you sure? My voice may not carry-"

"I've memorized it," piped Leliana.

Wynne looked at her incredulously. "Young lady, how did you-"

Leliana smiled and nodded. "I have always been good with songs, especially with the work of our Maker. You can count on me for this."

Wynne smiled. "Well, perhaps a bit of the Maker's blessings wouldn't hurt."

Alistair scratched his chin. "What else do we know about Uldred? We can't have anymore surprises like the Fade."

"When he summoned the demon, it bonded to him...turned him into an abomination. To be able to summon so many, and such powerful ones at that, means that this demon is not to be underestimated. Do not let his human form fool you."

Aedan strapped shield to arm and grasped hand to hilt. His fingers fidgeted.


	17. Fire

_The fire. Again Teharel dreamed of that fiery village. He looked around- he was in the town square. The bodies lay in a pile to be disposed of._

_His comrade gazed at it, his hand quivering. "The things we've done here, Teharel, people need to know about it."_

_Teharel glared at him as he threw another body onto the pile. "The moment you tell people about what happened here, all the lives we took, all the lies we've told, they will all mean nothing."_

_The man whipped his face towards him. "So what, we sacrifice our consciences for this? How do we even know that this is for the greater good?" He looked at his quivering hands. Teharel knew what his fellow warrior saw on his hands. He saw it every night in his dreams._

_"You've seen this country- fresh from the grasp of Orlais. You know they need this."_

_"It doesn't make what we do here any better. We're just as bad as Orlais if we have to resort to measures like this."_

_Teharel ignored his pleas, and continued his work, but he watched his friend closely. The man leaned against well and continued to look at him with disgust. "Besides, you're just a knife-ears- what concern is it to you whether or not this country falls."_

_"I live here. I have a niece whom I need to feed and protect. And I will do so, no matter what the cost. That's what you do for family."_

_The man shook his head. "Wonder what she'd do if she saw you now. That little niece of yours. Her uncle's blade dripping with the blood of-"_

_Teharel drew his sword. "Shut your mouth and get back with the others. I'll pretend I didn't hear what you said."_

_The crackling of the fire filled the silence and space between the two. The figure circled around Teharel, his hand on the hilt._

_"Do you really think you can do this, Teharel?"_

_"My sword's drawn, yours is sheathed. Do you really think you could get away with trying to leak the information?"_

_The man chuckled, "So, I guess this is it then."_

_"I'm sorry."_

_"Don't be. You're fighting for what you believe. So am I."_

_"Don't do this. You can't win. My sword is drawn."_

_"Oh Teharel, even though my sword is sheathed, you and I both know-"_

_His smile glinted. He leaned down into a ready position. His veins bulged from his forearms as he clenched his sword hilt._

_"That I'm faster."_

_The two men rushed forward. The hooded man whipped his sword from his side along with the scabbard. The motion propelled the scabbard straight at Teharel's face. The elf shifted to the side and sliced at the hooded man. His blade met empty air- from behind, he felt the stab of a sword in his back._

_"Oh Teharel. Was that all you had?"_

_Teharel coughed a bloody mess onto his leather armor. "Not quite," he growled. He grabbed a pile of burning coal and threw it into the man's face. His opponent staggered backwards, flailing at his face. Teharel lept at him and threw him onto his front. The man's face landed in the fire, and he let out an unearthly scream. He whipped the back of his fist around, knocking Teharel square in the jaw. Teharel's back hit the ground, and the world throbbed around him. His opponent stood over him, his shadow blotting out the fires around them. Teharel could hear the flesh of the man's face sizzling._

_"You'll pay dearly for that, Teharel." Just as the man brought his sword down, an arrow caught him in the arm. He clenched his hand in agony and dropped the sword. Several other figures approached from the darkness and tackled the burnt man to the ground._

_"Teharel...Teharel...stay with us!" The company shook him and stood gathered around him, desperately trying to bandage his sword wound. Teharel's eyes fluttered shut and the world went dark._

_His eyes fluttered open, and he was back in the servant's quarters. He rolled out of bed, looking outside of his window at the sun rise._

_"Teharel, you awake yet? We're heading to Denerim soon, and you said you wanted to visit your daughter again." Aedan yawned and ruffled his own bed hair into something presentable._

_"I'm coming, I'm coming."_

_"By the way, your one year anniversary is coming up, you want to do anything special?"_

_"What are we, some sort of married couple?"_

_"We do argue all the time."_

_"Shut up."_

_"I'll pick up a cake then," snickered Aedan, who slapped the elf on the back. The elf laughed half-heartedly and rubbed his aching back._

* * *

A prayer murmured through the hallways. Sacs of flesh hung off the wall, and corruption seeped through the cracks in the rock. Aedan cringed at the sight of them. As they walked towards the stairwell, the chanting grew louder.

"Oh Andraste, guide me through this treacherous path, give me the strength-"

Aedan kicked open the door; a solitary templar kneeled in prayer, surrounded by a magical barrier. His haggard skin stretched over his face. He rocked back and forth as he held his hands to his forehead. His glanced once at the group, then began to chant louder. His words filled the room and his voice shook. He looked at them again confused.

"I...I will not be swayed by your illusions demon. Begone." The templar's eyes darted from person to person. His teeth clicked. The sight of them sent sweat down his face.

Aedan stepped forward. "I'm not a demon."

"BEGONE!" roared the templar. Aedan paused. Was the templar's mind lost already? He waited for the templar to catch his breath; the man looked up once more and looked at them with anguish and confusion. "That usually works, why aren't you going away?" He rubbed his face, and shook his head strangely.

"Remember me, Cullen? It's me, Wynne." She knelt down at gazed at the ragged templar. She placed her hand up against the barrier. Tears welled up in her eye. "What have they done to you, you poor boy?"

"We're very real, Cullen." Aedan banged against the magic bubble, but his gauntlets bounced off. "Any way for me to break this thing and get you out of here?"

"You...you're here to free me? To stop the mages? Perhaps the Maker has answered my prayers."

"Stop the mages?" Alistair inquired, "I thought Uldred was behind this."

"Yes, Uldred brought this all down upon us, but the mages, the  _mages_  have been up there for too long. I've been in here...for too long. Too long."

"Morrigan, is there some way we can take this down?" asked Aedan, who now drew his sword and struck against the bubble to no avail. The sword bounced off as well and rung in Aedan's hands. Aedan grimaced and sheathed his weapon.

Morrigan leaned in and flicked her finger against the bubble. "Very slowly the circle mage and I could whittle away at it with our magic, but that would take time and energy that I reckon you wish to conserve for saving those hapless mages of yours. Killing the caster should suffice to break it as well."

"You'll find Uldred and the rest of the mages upstairs." Cullen's expression darkened. He paused, hesistating to say the words. He steeled himself and uttered, "You'll need to kill them all."

Aedan did a double take. "What are you talking about? We need them."

"Uldred has done things to them. Twisted their minds. The demons, they whisper to the mages, tempting them to great evil. They may have been decent folk once, but no one could have withstood Uldred's machinations for so long." Cullen's eyes drifted off to somewhere else, reliving memories within his head. He shivered at the thought. "No one."

"Cullen, you cannot expect us to kill the mages based on speculation!" said Wynne.

"Don't you understand Wynne?" Cullen slammed his hands up against the other side of the bubble and stared at the elderly mage, his voice cracking. "If we let even one blood mage go, we could have another incident just like this tower on our hands! I don't like it anymore then you, but you have to do it. A few lives for the many."

Wynne looked at Aedan, watching his stern expression. Cullen too looked towards him. Her aged hands hovered near her staff. Alistair eyed her motion and stepped more to her back.

Aedan mulled over the decision in his mind. A single word escaped his lips.

"No."

"They're not like you and me-"

"They're innocent people. Caught up in this mess of a Blight, just like all of us."

"Don't you think I know that? Do you think I relish killing the mages?" Cullen slammed his fist to the ground and the walls rattled. "I lived among these mages, they were my charges! But my duty as a templar is to protect the innocent from the dangers of magic."

"They are the innocent!" Aedan thrust his finger at Cullen. It hovered in front of the templar's face, just grazing the surface of the bubble. "And I'm not just going to kill them based on fear!" Aedan kneeled down and met Cullen's eyes. The templar shifted backwards. "I will protect the innocent from slaughter, from the Blight or anything else," Aedan stated.

"Even if it means the blood mages will live?"

"Yes." Aedan rose, and beckoned his companions to follow.

"You will damn us all," whispered Cullen as they left. Aedan pretended he didn't hear him. He didn't want to think about if Cullen was right.

The long winding stairway before the final room seemed to take forever. The marble stairway sucked the heat from the room, chilling Aedan to his core. He looked down at the steps beneath him. Each one worn away by the countless mages who had travelled upstairs to their Harrowing. Wynne had told him about it- how they would be tested, how it meant life and death. It seemed to him a pitiful existence: to be bound by the Chantry, to be gazed upon with suspicion and fear, and to be torn from one's family.

The door stood before him. He pushed aside the doors. Chills ran down his spine at the horrid sight before him: a mage writhed on the floor, his screams reverberating through the room. Dark energies swirled about him. It pricked at his flesh and contorted it. Blood gushed out, then was reabsorbed back into the body. With a final scream and flash of magic, only a horrendous abomination lumbered about in the mage's place. It lunged at the mages bound in the corner, but halted at the sound of a man whistling.

Aedan turned his gaze to the source of the whistle. Another mage, who turned to him as well. Bald and with a sinister smile across his face. Aedan recognized him as the mage from the war conference.

"Uldred."

The mage cocked his head at an unnatural angle, with his unblinking eyes open far too wide. The whites of his eyes had reddened from the dryness. "Ah, I remember you- or at least this vessel does. From Ostagar. I'm surprised you humans managed to survived that."

Aedan nodded at his companions behind him, who fanned out to the side. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to drop the staff, Uldred."

"No, no, I'm afraid I am no longer Uldred." The being that was once Uldred cackled and patted down his form. "I have taken his pathetic shell, yes, but I am so much more."

"Please, stop him," whimpered an old man, who lay limp and exhausted on the ground. His once elegant robes now lay caked with dirt and blood."He's...building an army."

"Now, now, Irving, no spoiling the fun." Uldred glared towards Aedan. "But you- you are too much a thorn in my side. It's a pity you were not born a mage; you would've made a useful puppet."

The air and blood of the room swirled around Uldred. His feet lifted off the ground, and he smiled ever so slightly towards the sky.

"You're one old man, there's six of us. Surrender!" Aedan drew his sword and pointed it towards the storm that brewed about Uldred.

Uldred's head jerked towards him. "One old man, you say?" The edges of his mouth smiled so widely that it tore at his cheeks. A burst of chilled wind and chaotic magic sent everyone tumbling backwards. Instead of a hunched back old man, a massive Pride demon stood in his place. It turned towards Aedan, the floor breaking beneath each step.

"You just had to say it," muttered Alistair out of the corner of his mouth, as the looming shadow of Uldred cast over him and Aedan.

Aedan waved out in all directions, and slapped on his helm."Everybody, get clear of me, now!" His companions scattered, only to be met by a horde of abominations.

In that split second, Aedan charged. His boots slammed against the floor, the air rushing against his face. He lunged to the side as Uldred's fist slammed into the ground. He slashed at the demon's rough skin. Blood dripped from the fist, but less than Aedan had hoped for. Uldred turned and attempted to sweep Aedan to the side. Aedan forced himself to stay still, the fist moving towards him in slow motion. He stepped backwards and swung in the opposite direction of the incoming fist. The fist missed Aedan by a inch- but it instead slammed into his incoming sword, slicing itself.

"Sten, take the two on the left, I'll take the two on the right. We need to keep as much pressure off of Aedan and the mages," barked Alistair. He bashed a nearby abomination with his shield. Their blows and shrieks hit harder then before- the magic of Uldred flowed strong within them.

"Come on, that all you got!" taunted Aedan. He had to keep the attention on him and make sure his companions could keep the assault on. Leliana perched on a nearby balcony. Her arrows flew straight and true at the joints of Uldred, slowing down his movements.

The demon's laughter boomed through the chamber. He held his hands together and a swirling mass of ice began to form. Just as he was about to cast, a wave of fire melted the ice within his hands. Uldred turned towards Morrigan, whose hands blazed with heat. He snapped his claws, and ice rose to encase Morrigan's feet.

"Damn it!" Morrigan's hands glowed while she held them against the ice at her feet. Water dripped from the ice, but Uldred's fist already cast a shadow over her. Uldred lept up and brought down the blow. Morrigan's eyes clenched shut. The rush of wind put out the fire in her hands and blew against her hair- but she did not feel the brunt of the blow. She opened her eyes to find Aedan's right up against her. His legs quaked beneath's Uldred's fist. His shield trembled beneath the sheer force and the ground began to break beneath him.

"Don't tell me...that little flame...was all you could do?" Aedan sputtered through clenched breaths and blood. Sweat dripped down his helm and his armor shook and rattled. He almost couldn't take it, but he glanced over his shoulder and saw her. The flame that his words alit in her eyes- passion, fury, bemusement, he couldn't tell- but she gave him a small smile before beginning to chant. The flames erupted from her hands, swirling around her entire being. Faster and brighter it blazed. Uldred lifted his fist. Aedan kneeled to the ground in relief, only to look up to see Uldred clench both firsts together.

The shadow of his arms loomed over him. Aedan's legs didn't tremble. The fists slammed down. The room shook. Wynne fell over from the force and smacked her forehead against the ground. She hazily looked up at the scene. Aedan stood strong, albeit worse for wear. Bits of his armor had fallen to the ground, and his chestplate barely hung on. His boots cracked beneath the pressure, but his shield held on, and so did Aedan. He roared and pushed against Uldred, slowly pushing him upwards. Morrigan looked up from her chanting. Her eyes glowed furious red.

"Burn."

Morrigan slammed her staff into the ground, and waves of fire erupted like an unceasing geyser. They arced across the room, surrounding Uldred. The air in the room boiled, and sweat dripped down within Aedan's armor. An inferno erupted beneath Uldred and engulfed him. The creature stumbled backwards, clawing at the fire. He snarled at Morrigan, and brought both hands backwards to squish Morrigan like a fly.

"Morrigan, move!"Aedan turned to Morrigan, who was deep in chant, her eyes and hand still glowing like the sun. Couldn't she hear him? Aedan glanced at Uldred. If he brought both hands from the side, he couldn't block it. He glanced down at Morrigan's feet; the inferno's residual heat had melted away her bonds.

Uldred's hands came rushing together. Aedan grabbed Morrigan in his arms and lept to the side. Uldred's palms sliced his back as Aedan tumbled to the ground. Pain seared through his back. Not only had Uldred drawn blood, but his flaming hands burned Aedan's flesh.

"Damn it," slurred Morrigan, "why the hell did you interrupt me." She struggled to push out of Aedan grasp and fell to the ground on her knees, still dizzy from the enormous spell she'd just cast. She lifted herself up by her staff and glared at Aedan's wide and bleeding back.

"You did good, Morrigan. We'll take it from here." Aedan wiped the blood from his face and rushed at the flaming monster. The monster attempted to swipe at him again, but Leliana's arrows sunk into his eyes. The monster staggered, giving Aedan and the others their chance.

Morrigan scoffed beneath her breath. "Like hell I'll just lie down." She swung her staff at the abominations which headed towards Aedan and battered them with a storm of ice.

"Sten, Alistair, the legs!" Aedan barked as he slide beneath the monster's legs. Sten lumbered over and swung his greatsword, cleaving deep into the legs of Uldred. Alistair and Aedan ripped at the tendons of the other leg. Soon the demon fell to his knees and onto his hands. Purple blood dripped from his body and steamed as it stained the marble floor.

Aedan turned to the behemoth before him. The flames died down upon its body, leaving only a burnt layer of sizzling skin. Uldred stared back at him, snarling. Aedan mustered up everything he had within, and sprinted at the demon head on. His sword drove through the torso as Aedan rushed underneath the belly of the beast. His innards spilled outwards to the floor. Uldred screamed and collapsed to the ground as Alistair and Sten broke the bones of his arms.

Uldred lay on the ground now, still struggling to move despite all he had suffered. Aedan limped over to Uldred's head. It was strange, seeing someone so big beneath him at his feet. He spat once on the demon, before bringing his sword down upon the neck. The body gave one last twitch, then went limp. It began to disintegrate into dust- the puddles of blood and entrails too dissolved into the air, until only the bloodied burnt body of Uldred's original form remained.


	18. Protect

Gregoir paced about the main hall. Tremors had shot throughout the tower. Roars had echoed through the halls.

The door shook. Gregoir jumped and he grabbed his sword. It shook again- something was knocking against it. Gregoir nodded to his weary men. They scrambled off the ground. Their swords quavered before the door. '  
"Usually, when people knock, it's common courtesy to ask who it is," coughed a ragged voice.

Gregoir's heart nearly leapt out of his chest. It couldn't be. "Irving?" His hand hesitated before the door handle. Maybe the demons were impersonating Irving. Perhaps he had finally gone insane from the stress. He gulped, and clasped the handle. He had to believe. He wanted to believe. He threw the door open.

Irving weakly grinned at him, supported by his fellow mages. Gregoir's open mouth turned into a warm smile. He breathed wordlessly and took in the sight. All had not been lost. He squeezed Irving in a bear hug. The two men laughed until they were out of breath. The remaining templars removed their helms and put down their swords. They rose, although not ordered. Aedan limped into the room, supported by Alistair. "I do good work, don't I?" chuckled Aedan.

Gregoir released Irving and clasped Aedan's hand in his own. "You have done this Circle a great deal. I did not think it could be done, but here you are. Thank you."

Aedan motioned Alistair towards a nearby crate. The templar helped ease him down. Aedan grunted as the pressure was relieved from his sore legs. Wynne stepped over and began to examine Aedan's back. "Maker, do you ever not have wounds on you?"

Aedan coughed and chuckled simultaneously. Wynne's hands radiated gentle healing waves across his back. His skin tingled as his skin and muscle began to close. "First your arm, then this," muttered the older woman, "I'm beginning to think you have a knack for getting into life-threatening situations."

Aedan winced as Wynne's finger grazed one of his scrapes. "You have no idea."

"Should have seen him after the ogre attack, took awhile to get him working again," said Alistair. The abominations had littered his body with bruises all over. He too took a seat next to Aedan, twiddling his thumbs while waiting for Wynne to get to him.

As she worked on Aedan's wounds, Wynne stated, "If it's quite alright with you, and with you as well Irving, I'd like to accompany this young man on his travels." Her hands dimmed and she drew them back from Aedan's back. She knelt to his swollen ankle. Alistair's foot tapped a little faster. Wynne glared at the other warden. "I'll get to you next, don't get your undergarments in a bunch. I'm tired too you know."

Alistair blushed.

Irving scratched his neck and looked at Wynne."Are you sure, Wynne? We could use your help in rebuilding the Circle. We will need strong mentors to guide our apprentices through these harrowing times."

"A part of me wants to stay, believe me, Irving- but I think that our friend here needs me more than you do. He seems to get into trouble quite a lot." She turned to Aedan. "What say you?"

Aedan rubbed his back. His fingers felt no open flesh nor blood. "I'd be honored to have you along." He scratched the back of his neck whilst chuckling, "We could really use someone to help pick us back up."

Gregoir approached the group, a package in hand: a pile of letters wrapped neatly in twine, sealed with a wax seal of the templar insignia.

"Wynne, if you are to be going with them, would you mind stopping by Denerim? We need someone to deliver the cancellation for the Right of Annulment, and the Denerim Chantry is familiar with you. I need to stay here and rebuild, so if you wouldn't mind-"

Wynne looked at Aedan. The young man scratched his chin and pondered for a moment. He looked back at Gregoir and nodded. "Denerim should be our next stop anyways. I need to gather some more information about the current political situation. Collect on a few favors." Aedan stood up on his feet. He wiggled his ankle about; it felt good as new.

"Knight-Commander, I have something to say," came a familiar voice, tinged with fear. Cullen stepped forth from the ranks, and bowed once before Gregoir.

"Speak your mind, Cullen."

Cullen gulped and eyed the wounded mages before him. He hesistated, but took a deep brath in and steeled his resolve. "The mages. They need to be locked up. Uldred may have gotten to them. We cannot let any blood mages live."

The room grew silent. The mages hesitated as they turned towards the three leaders- Gregoir, Irving, and Aedan. Irving shot up from his seat, despite his tired body. "You cannot just claim we are blood mages with no proof! Uldred did nothing to us." He turned to address Gregoir. "My friend, you cannot listen to this man's accusations. I assure you, we are sound of mind and spirit."

Gregoir folded his arms together, eyeing both Cullen and Irving. "I want to believe you, Irving, I really do. But you yourself could not recognize the signs in Uldred...and you were with him for so long."

Irving's breathing became shallower. "Gregoir, please." He looked at the Knight-Commander with imploring eyes.

"However, Cullen, I cannot help but question your own judgement- you too were held prisoner and subject to Uldred's machinations. You may not be in the right state of mind to suggest such things. As such, we have only one witness whose account we can truly rely on."

Feet shuffled, and then the room fell silent. The mages and templars all faced towards Aedan. It had been awhile since he had spoken before a crowd. Aedan widened his stance and scanned the room. His eyes briefly met those in the crowd. He needed them all to hear this. His army could not be divided by doubt and fear. He turned back to Gregoir. "I was in that room," he said, "Uldred's magic did not touch the mages; the Litany saw to that. There is no evidence that any of these mages practice blood magic, nor that Uldred has tampered with them in anyway.

"Gregoir, we cannot persecute these innocents based solely on suspicion. In times like these, we need to stand together, and stand up for our fellow people. That includes the mages."

The Knight-Commander nodded. He wiped his forehead, leaving only a glimmer of sweat. "I shall take your word for it." He tried his best to hold back his grin.

Irving exhaled in relief and held his hand out to Aedan. "Thank you for believing in us. I will repay you the best way I can. I hereby pledge to uphold the ancient treaty that binds us to the Wardens." He released Aedan's hand and shuffled back towards the main halls.

The Knight-Commander glanced once at the mages before turning back to Aedan."On behalf of the Chantry and the Circle of Magi, I'd like to thank you-" The bearded templar paused and scratched his chin. "Huh. I never did get your name, Warden."

Aedan opened his mouth. His name almost left his lips. Then he realized what Gregoir had just said. "What did you just call me?"

"Warden. You are a Grey Warden, so it seemed appropriate enough."

"...Warden is fine. That's what I am." The edge of Aedan's mouth curved into the slightest smile. He would take whatever little rewards he could.

* * *

_"Are you absolutely sure that you don't want to go to Cailan's coronation reception?" asked Teharel. Aedan walked alongside him in the Alienage. Hijaya's apartment lay a block away. The two mens' stomachs growled. It had been awhile since Teharel had eaten his daughter's cooking._

_"Ah, Father and Fergus can take care of it. Fergus is next in line anyways; he should be representing the household, not me. I told them I'd be here anyways." His stomach churned again. "Although it's too bad I'm missing out on those fancy little appetizers."_

_Night had begun to fall upon the Alienage, yet the moon shone brightly enough for Teharel to make out a figure atop the roofs._

_"Aedan."_

_"Yep?"_

_Teharel's eyes darted towards the roof. He flicked his head upwards to the right. Aedan looked towards the skies._

_"There's someone on the rooftops, watching us."_

_"Do you know who they are?"_

_"I can't tell."_

_One figure leapt down and crashed into the wooden cart below. His bulky figure and demeanor seemed familiar to Aedan. A mane of unkempt dirty hair swallowed his head whole. He hadn't shaved for awhile, and certainly hadn't kept himself clean. Dirty splotches of dirt and dust covered his chainmail, and it looked to be second hand. He scowled at the broken cart and kicked the little pieces to the side. The man picked at his teeth, glancing sideways at Aedan with an air of contempt. "Why the hell you hanging out with this stuck-up brat?"_

_That voice. The man from Bann Abelard's tournament, the would-be assassin of Cailan. Aedan shut his lips and began backing towards his weapon._

_"Teharel, meet the man who tried to kill King Cailan."_

_The other man's head crooked to the side. The edges of his scowl poked out. "Were you at the tournament? I didn't see the Cousland coat of arms on any of my opponents. You either just watched from the sidelines, or weren't even good enough to face me. Either way, I don't care."_

_The man didn't recognize him. Good. Aedan pinned his sword hilt down with his foot. "Apparently you weren't even good enough to kill the king." His foot played with the hilt, ready to flick it up into his hands._

_The man growled at Aedan and his nostrils flared. He ignored Aedan's jest and turned back towards Teharel. "Didn't come here looking for a fight, came here looking for information. Information that you have, old man."_

_Teharel narrowed his eyes. His weight shifted to the balls of his feet. "I'm a gardener. The most I can tell you is how to keep your flowers from dying."_

_"Denerim's a big place. I was hoping you might give me directions to somewhere. You seem like you know your way around the city."_

_"Why not ask my friend here? I've only lived in the Alienage."_

_"A little birdy told me about a very interesting warehouse. I'm told you and some others kept things there."_

_"I'm just a gardener. I think you have the wrong person."_

_"A gardener. How very very ironic," crackled a raspy voice. A hooded man exited Teharel's house. Within his grasp was the trembling body of Teharel's daughter. Her breath came in short, panicked breaths and her face was pale. Teharel took a sharp breath in._

_"Don't worry, Teharel," said Hijaya's captor. "It's only a little bit of poison. I just had to incapacitate her. I didn't know if she inherited your skills. I didn't want to hurt her."_

_The glint of a knife flashed in the darkness, held up against Hijaya's throat. The stranger flashed a dangerous smile. "But I will if I have to."_

_The figure drew his hood back. Scars ran down the side of his right face, barely visible beneath his greying black hair. His face, while wrinkled, certainly fared better than Teharel's aging. Aedan put him at about the age of his own father._

_"It took awhile to get the burns to heal, Teharel. Those Tevinter mages really do know their craft...when they're not trying to kill you. Unfortunately, the scars never did completely heal."_

_The older man signaled his companion with a slight wave. "Stand down, Victor. We have no quarrel with these two. I'd like to solve this peacefully, if possible. "_

_Victor drew his sword. "Sorry boss, I'd like to be prepared. Last time I let my guard down, I ended up in a dungeon." He spat at the Alienage tree and scowled at Teharel._

_Teharel gritted his teeth. "You call this peaceful, holding a knife to my daughter's neck?"_

_"I guess we all have to do despicable things to set things in motion, don't we? You taught me that." The man and Teharel began to circle around one another._

_"You're supposed to be dead, Adair," said Teharel._

_"Let's not get all caught up in who killed who, and who's supposed to be dead. I'm here for one reason, Teharel. After that, you'll never see me again." The knife's edge drew close to Hijaya's neck. She shivered as the cold steel brushed her skin. The older man, Adair, let his smile fade. His eyes bored into Teharel and his voice dripped with a restrained fury. "Where's the warehouse?"_

_Hijaya whipped a cooking knife from her side, slipped from the Adair's grasp, and drove it towards his back. The man caught her wrist in his grasp, and twisted. She screamed as the resulting crack of her bones echoed through the night._

_"BASTARD!" Teharel moved faster than Aedan had ever seen him run. Veins bulged from his wirey forearms as his hands strangled his sword. His feet blurred against the ground. In a dizzying display of footwork, he sidestepped Adair and grasped Hijaya within his arms. In a fluid motion, he threw his daughter at Aedan. His arms stretched outwards. The elf pivoted and drove all his force into his sword._

_Adair's cloak flapped against the air. Two swords sliced upwards. Teharel stopped mid strike and leaped backwards, narrowly avoiding losing his arms._

_"Teharel!" Aedan leaned Hijaya against her apartment's door. He had to help. He rushed towards the dueling pair. Victor barreled into him. Aedan tumbled to the ground._

_"Let the old friends have their talk." Victor drew his mace and drove the head down. Aedan's heart barraged against his chest. The mace crashed into the ground. Aedan's head had twitched to the side, barely avoided it._

_Aedan's leg shot into the man's stomach. Right into the solarplex, right where Teharel had taught him. When he kicked, he felt the adrenaline surge through his leg. As he pushed off the ground, his fingers tingled. Something felt different._

_Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the other man beat down Teharel. The elf's blood splattered against the dirty alienage lawn. The man delivered blow after blow with devastating speed and ferocity. Each time Teharel tried to counter, the man broke through the counter with sheer strength._

_Aedan rolled to the side and picked up a nearby shield. Victor swung his mace, which thudded against Aedan's shield. In that split second where the mace shook in Victor's hand, Aedan slammed his shield into his opponent's face. The man flew like a limp doll towards the side._

_"Teharel, I've been watching you for awhile. I'm surprised you haven't noticed," chuckled Adair, who kicked back Teharel. The elf brought his sword down, drawing blood on the other man's arm. The other man merely smiled and smashed Teharel in the face with his hilt. He wasn't fighting to kill. Not yet._

_"You've gotten rusty. It's all that drinking you've been doing," he said with his smug grin. Teharel's face, however, was contorted in pain and anger. His movements began to accelerate. He grazed the cheek of Adair's face with the tip of his sword. Bits of hair flew from his face. Adair grimaced, then launched his assault. He sliced both swords at Teharel's chest, slicing into his shirt._

_"You think you can just drink away those memories?"_

_A barrage of kicks landed in Teharel's stomach. The elf reeled backwards._

_"You think raising your little plants and your little daughter will redeem you?" Adair screamed, losing his calm voice. His swords danced and whirled, slicing at Teharel's skin and tendons. The elf bit his lip, trying to endure. His legs began to tremble, and his limbs went numb. His body shook and shuddered. He looked at the edge of Adair's swords; drops of venom tinged the very tip._

_"Men like us-" A stream of tears ran down Adair's cheek. "We don't get that right."_

_The elf crumpled to the ground. He clutched his sides. He could feel the soggy blood through his shirt. "I know that...and for what it's worth...I'm sorry."_

_Adair loomed over Teharel, watching him with shaking fists. His foot hesitated over Teharel's leg. "Tell me where it is, Teharel. Please." His voice had quieted._

_"I can't," croaked the elf._

_Adair's heel swung down. The crunch echoed in Aedan's ears. His stomach turned at the sight of shattered bone protruding from Teharel's devastated right leg and the blood spurting forth from it._

_"Tell me where the warehouse is, or I do this to your daughter, her husband, and your little friend here. And maybe after that, I'll help you live."_

_Adair heard the shuffle of Aedan's feet against the dirt. He sighed and turned towards Aedan. The young man jumped backwards, startled. "Don't even try it," seethed Adair. His ragged breath was visible in the cold night air. Fighting Teharel had taken its toll._

_"He's going to kill you. The blade...is poisoned." Teharel slammed his fist against the ground, his body shaking whilst he tried to get back up. He slipped in his own blood, and his face fell to the ground. "Run."_

_Aedan eyes met Teharel's. For the first time, he saw fear. He looked over at the man who stood over the elf. Unlike the elf, Adair was not lanky nor spry. Teharel's blood dripped down his chiseled arms and calloused hands. Teharel had always hidden his fighting ability, but this man wore it, lived it. The moon's light fell upon his massive back and the shadow fell upon Teharel's broken body. He stood over his prey like an animal. Aedan wiped his sweaty palm against his pants. No armor to protect him. No Loghain to bail him out. No Teharel._

_He couldn't do this._

_Aedan, his heart pounding out of his chest, glanced backwards, looking for an escape route. There, laying by the side of the path, was Hijaya. Her fiance held her in his arms, cradling her trembling body. Now Aedan's eyes met hers. The moonlight reflected off her tears. Though only for a moment, as their eyes connected, he could hear her voice in his ears. The voice of a daughter who loved her father, and the one word she screamed silently._

_Please._

_He turned back. His feet shook whilst he raised his shield upwards. Adair raised his eyebrow at the sight. Aedan's hands felt cold and numb as he clenched his sword handle. As Aedan raised his sword, his feet stopped shaking._

_A fire lit in his eyes._


	19. Stoic

The lights of the Circle of Magi held steady outside the confines of their camp. Irving had offered to let them stay there for the night, but Aedan had decided to depart: the sooner they got to Denerim, the better. No doubt the Chantry awaited the Circle's status. He and Wynne sat together on an old log, stoking the guard fire. The occasional snores of their companions (mostly Alistair) filled the night.

"Have you dealt with mages before?" asked Wynne, "You don't seem as afraid of us as other people."

"Other people?"

"My birth family was dreadfully frightened of me. You know, when I was a young girl, I got so angry at one boy that my anger bubbled up and I set his hair on fire. I ended up being locked in the shed in the dark for days, until the Templars showed up."

"I'm sorry. It must have been hard...being taken from your family."

"It was...but then when I stepped into the Tower, surrounded by other mages and looking up that vast stairway, somewhere in my heart I knew I was home. One path closes, another opens."

Aedan shifted in place and his eyes hazed over. Wynne placed her hand gently on his.

"I get the feeling something happened to you. Before Ostagar. Are you feeling alright?" Wynne gave him a look that reminded him of his mother- she used to sit by his bedside when he had nightmares. The words almost left his mouth- their names, his past, the events of that night. It hovered on the tip of his tongue, but his heart wrenched and pulled the words back in.

"I'll be fine, Wynne. Time heals most wounds." Aedan gazed downwards away from the woman's eyes.

Wynne gave him a sad smile and patted his hand. "When you're ready then." The elderly mage stood up and departed to her bedroll, giving one last look at the solitary Aedan. She smiled as she saw a figure approach from the dark.

Morrigan plopped down next to him. Aedan jumped a little. She hadn't sat down to talk with him in awhile. He glanced over at her, meeting her brief gaze. She brushed away a stray lock of hair out of her face.

"I believe you were saying something," she muttered. Her eyes darted away and she leaned to the side. Something was on her mind.

"What?"

"Back in the Fade- you were going to say I'm sor-" Morrigan cut off the last word, looking at Aedan expectantly. Her foot tapped against the ground whilst Aedan raised his eyebrow. This was the closest thing to Morrigan accepting his apology that Aedan was going to get. He grinned: he might as well have fun with it.

"Dunno, it's kinda blurry," he pondered. He kicked his feet up and let his view turn to the stars. He watched Morrigan from the corner of his eye; she pouted and leaned in. Her hands pushed against his shoulder playfully. "You are the only one who broke free in the Fade, and yet now you remember nothing. How curious."

He turned his gaze back on her. She had on a wicked smile, looking for him to lay down and beg for her forgiveness. Aedan tapped his fist against his open hand, as though he had suddenly remembered something trivial. "You know what, I think I remember. I was going to say I'm sorry-"

He let the words linger in the air between them. Her expression softened. He sighed in relief, then returned Morrigan's wicked smile. "But then I saw you fight Uldred. And I thought, is that really all she can do? I can totally beat that."

Morrigan's jaw dropped in a mixture of disbelief and amusement. The fire crackled as she exhaled sharply. She scooted in closer to Aedan on the tree trunk- only a few inches separated her and Aedan.

"I think I would have had a chance to shine better if someone hadn't decided to tackle me to the ground," she retorted with mock anger. "One might even suggest you did that on purpose, so you could hog the glory of the kill to yourself."

"Considering I saved your life, I should think you should be a little more grateful. In fact, maybe you should be thanking me." Aedan looked into her eyes, unwavering in his teasing words. He didn't mind staring into Morrigan's eyes- he could lose himself in there. So piercing. So beautiful. She looked down at his lips, and gently bit her own. Instinctively, Aedan looked at hers. In that brief moment, Morrigan struck: "Well-"

Morrigan's hands slid around Aedan's arm. Her soft lithe arms coiled about his, pulling her body towards him. Aedan choked; he could feel her warmth up against his arm. Her plump lips brushed against his ear.

"It wasn't completely unpleasant," she breathed. The last word rolled off her tongue, and he could feel the moist brushes of her lips as she spoke. His face grew hot and his cheeks reddened. Her fingers reached over and pressed against his forehead. They lingered for what seemed like an eternity.

"It seems I've managed to burn you, oh untouchable leader." The witch sprung up and looked down upon the flustered Warden. "Looks like I win our little duel." She held her fingers to her lips to hide her smile as she sauntered away.

A low grumble left Aedan. He rubbed his flushed face.

Damn that woman. She was a dangerous one.

* * *

_Aedan charged. Adair's sword swung from the right. Aedan spun to the left, letting his shield deflect the blow, and driving force into his right hand. However, this left his back open to Adair. The man grumbled and motioned to kick Aedan in the back._

_That feeling again. Like he had had when fighting Victor. His blood rushed to his head. His heart pumped. The world slowed._

_He let his knees drop, without losing the momentum of his strike. He felt his hair blown back by the sheer force of Adair kick. It barely grazed his head. Aedan launched out of his kneeling position and rushed past Adair. The older man narrowed his eyes. A drop of blood dribbled down his cheek. His finger traced where Aedan's sword had cut him._

_"So, Teharel taught you? Interesting. It'll be fun fighting someone who isn't a short old alcoholic."_

_His sword slashed down. Aedan's body reacted on it's own and stepped sideways. He couldn't let himself think, not now. He could only react._

_As the blows rained down upon him, however, the thought shot through his mind._

_I could die._

_Really, the thought had never occurred to him before. He fought only in tournaments, against trainers. The only sort of real danger he had ever been in was at Bann Abelard's against Victor, and even then there had been a whole room of guards and Loghain._

_He could feel it. The adrenaline surging through his veins. As Adair's sword blows rained down upon him, he could feel it tingling. The fear of death. He moved quicker, struck harder, and blocked more tenaciously. The sweat dripped down his brow and his breathing became more desperate. He didn't want to die._

_But he couldn't leave Teharel behind._

_The fear guided his body as he dodged, as his shield whipped round to block the blows._

_Courage guided his body as he dared to attack Adair. He stabbed forward, almost hitting the man._

_"Interesting...you've got talent, boy. Victor underestimated you."_

_The man brought his sword down upon Aedan's shield. He barely managed to block it. The shield shook in his hands and bones. His hands went numb._

_"Killing you would be such a waste."_

_He whipped both swords from the side. Adair smiled. He had the boy: he could only dodge backward, or take at the least one blow. Adair's foot tensed against the ground in preparation for Aedan's retreat._

_Aedan saw the man's foot prepare, and in an instant he smashed the shield and himself forward. His body threw itself into one final push. The cold steel smashed against Adair's face, who stumbled backwards one step. He growled once and his hand shot out, clutching Aedan's throat in an iron grip. His fingers dug in, and Aedan dropped his sword and shield. He clawed at the man's hand and sputtered for air._

_"Why don't you put our young noble friend down?"_

_Adair loosened his grip on Aedan's throat and dropped the young man. Aedan gasped for breath and began to sit up. He looked over and saw his brother with several guardsman surrounding Adair and himself. One guardsmen stepped forward, about the same age as his brother, with a stern demeanor about him._

_"My name is Constable Kylon of the Denerim City Guard." He cracked his neck once and didn't bother to draw his sheathed sword. His hands betrayed his cool demeanor- Kylon nervously fiddled his fingers with his arms almost glued to his sides._

_"Now why should I do that?" breathed Adair._

_"Unlike our young friend there, I have an actual brain on my head. We've got twenty archers marking you and several guard units blocking off all the exits."_

_The sound of multiple bows strings filled the air. Adair's face soured. His eyes darted around, catching glimpse of the arrows pointed at his direction. They hid on rooftops, behind crates, and even in the trees. He lifted his arms up as he rose. Nobody noticed the inaudible drop of a glass flask from behind his cloak. He stomped once forward. The glass shattered beneath his foot. Smoke bellowed out and covered the area in a thick, nauseous gas. Guards began staggering about and wobbling. Lines of blood dripped from their nostrils."Evacuate the area!" screamed Kylon._

_The lone swordsman grinned and picked up his swords. "Qunari-made, I hope you enjoy." Adair lunged over to Victor's limp body and snatched the man effortlessly up. He walked over to Aedan, who lay struggling on the ground. The sight of Aedan struggling on the floor made him smirk._

_"You're an interesting fellow. Don't die, okay?" Adair whispered, before smashing his foot into Aedan's stomach._

_Fergus swung around, trying to find his brother amidst the chaos. "Don't shoot, you'll hit my brother!" The archers complied and brought their bows down, then fled the area as the toxic gas . "Aedan, we've got to get Aedan!" cried Fergus, who began wading into the gas. Kylon groaned, the punched Fergus in the gut and hoisted his limp body onto his shoulder. "Sorry Ser, but I'm not losing two nobles today- the Captain would have my head." The constable looked back once to see Aedan's figure rising upwards."Besides, you should have a little more faith in your brother."_

_Gotta get out of here, thought Aedan. His hand left a bloody print against the ground as he struggled to pull himself up. Where was the blood coming from? His hand traced the path back up his arm to his mouth. More blood dribbled down from the corner of his mouth, and his vision blurred._

_He stumbled over to Teharel's bleeding body, and hoisted the elf up onto his shoulder. He looked around at the other guards: already some lay on the ground, others were crawling out of the smoke. And, although he had almost been beaten to death, surprisingly Aedan could still stand and walk. He stumbled out into the alleys, where he saw Constable Kylon carrying Fergus. "Looks like you made it out all right," grunted the officer, who put down Fergus onto the steps._

_"I'll kill you Constable," muttered Fergus, still somewhat delirious. It seems he too had ingested some of the gas._

_"Can you get my friend here to a healer?" Aedan pushed Teharel into Kylon's arms. The elf gurgled something through blood, but Aedan could make out no discernable words._

_"I can't, I need to get my men-"_

_"You take care of Teharel, I'll take care of your men." Aedan had to help. The arrival of the guards had saved his life, and he needed to repay the favor. Aedan, despite his dizzying vision, took a deep breath in and held it._

_"Are you crazy?" cried out Kylon. There was no answer from Aedan as he lept back into the smoke._

* * *

_Aedan wrung his fingers, kneading his callouses together. He, Hijaya, and Jarat sat outside the waiting room. Constable Kylon leaned up against the wall, coldly staring at the bodies of his men. Aedan had managed to drag the ones who had collapsed out of the gas, right before he collpased to the ground himself. His recovery time, however, had been shorter than those with minimal exposure to the gas._

_A mage exited Teharel's room. Behind him Aedan could see two chantry sisters and an elven nurse, their hands soaked in Teharel's blood. The mage removed his gloves and tossed them into a wastebasket. "The leg has to come off. There's nothing we can do about that- but that isn't the most pressing issue. Your father's liver, is quite frankly, almost broken. A lifetime of excessive alcohol consumption had already put his body into a precarious state. His body just can't deal with the poison on it's own. Granted, he's somehow holding up- he seems to have a natural resistance to whatever that sword was coated in."_

_Or induced immunity, thought Aedan, who recalled Teharel feeding him poisonous herbal mixtures to harden his insides. The elf had been insane, but perhaps it had helped keep Aedan safe from the poison gas. Aedan clenched his hands until they went white. Teharel had protected him, even when the elf had been bleeding and half-dead on the ground, and yet Aedan couldn't do a thing when it mattered. He glanced over at Hijaya. The young elf bit her lip- but tears escaped her. Aedan watched them run down her cheek, and waver on the tip of her chin. One dropped to the floor and faded away._

_"Is it the same as the one in the flask Adair broke?"_

_The mage shook his head. "No, that one is a qunari mixture, one for which we have the antidote, Constable. Your men will be fine."_

_"But this poison that coated the blade is unlike anything I've seen. While we are doing our best with our magic, it's made out of several different components that even I can't identify. Without knowing what it is, then within a week-"_

_The mage hesitated. His eyes dropped to the floor. Tears streamed down Hijaya's face. She buried herself in Jarat's arms, whilst her body heaved with her sobs._

_"He will die," muttered the mage. Aedan stood shocked. His mind raced. Teharel couldn't die. Not the incorrigible, tough-as-nails, Teharel. He gritted his teeth._

_"You said you don't know what the poison is, and that's what's preventing you from healing him. What if I found the man who did this, and got the formula from him?" asked Aedan._

_"Then he might be able to make it. He'll have a slim chance, but he could pull through."_

_That sentence was enough to light the fire in Aedan's weary heart. Aedan clasped his hands around Hijaya's shoulders, looking her straight into her tear filled eyes._

_"Hijaya, I'm going to find the man who did this, and I'm going to save your father. I promise you."_

_Aedan motioned the mage to let him through the door. He pushed aside the assistants to see Teharel's mangled leg lay bare on the table, and the pale wrecked body of the elf shuddering in pain._

_"The door's pretty thin you know, I can you hear you all talking." Teharel cringed as one of the Sisters began to wrap his arms in bandages._

_"Teharel, that man knew you. I need to know who he is if I'm going to find him."_

_All that Aedan could hear was the tired wheezing of Teharel, who hesitated before whispering, "His name is Adair; we used to work together."_

_"Define work."_

_Teharel glanced through the doorway at Hijaya and Kylon. "Not in front of them."_

_"Teharel, I can't do this without any leads."_

_"Aedan, I don't want anybody else dying because of me." He nodded at Aedan and beckoned him closer with his finger. Aedan kneeled down by Teharel's side. "But I trust you enough to know that you can get out of this alive at least," he let out, his words sounding rushed and desperate, "I need you to do something for me. It may help you find him, it may not-"_

_A scream erupted from him as the nurse dabbed his wounds with an alcohol soaked rag. "Oh the irony," he seethed. He motioned to the Sister for a piece of paper. The nurse hesitated. "Shemlen, if you don't give me that paper, I'll bite my own damn leg off. Tell that to your supervisor." Her face twisted in horror as she shoved paper and quill to Teharel's side. The elf's hand quavered and struggled to even pick up the quill. He scribbled something on the paper before letting the quill drop to the floor. Teharel's body convulsed again and the elf held back a scream._

_"Go to this location, and move this information. Don't destroy it- move it. Adair wants it, and I don't want him getting his grubby hands all over it."_

_"Teharel, just tell me what this is all about-"_

_"Aedan. What you read in there..." The elf glanced away in shame. "When you do, please don't think any less of me. I did what was needed," he croaked. His eyes grew glassy and he let breathed out mournfully._

_Aedan had never seen him look so weak before. He stepped over to the elf and held his hand, giving it a small squeeze. "I'll find him, Teharel. Don't worry."_

_"If I don't see you again-"_

_"Don't say it," Aedan interrupted. He had to succeed. He looked at Teharel with resolute eyes. The elf understood and sighed. "Then fuck you shemlen," chuckled Teharel, who rolled over on his side, "looks like I'm going to have to live as cripple."_

_Aedan gave him a sad smile and quietly shut the door. He leaned up against the closed door and squeezed his eyes tightly to hold in the tears. Real men don't cry, damnit, keep it together, thought Aedan. For them._

_The paper crinkled in his clenched hands; He glanced it, and handed it to Kylon. "I'm heading to this address. Know anything about?"_

_"Damn shady part of the neighborhood, that's what. I'll escort you, it's too dangerous for a soft noble like yourself," muttered Kylon. He gripped his sword. "Besides, I want to find the bastard who did this to my fellow guards."_

_As Aedan was leaving, he felt Hijaya's hand upon his shoulder. Her fingers felt cold and ghostly. He didn't want to look back at her. He wouldn't be able to hold it together if he did. Another silent exchange of words passed between the two. Aedan's back told Hijaya everything she needed to know; the wide back that had faced her and her father as Aedan had defended them tooth and nail. She lightly squeezed his shirt between her fingers once before letting go._

_Aedan and Kylon departed through the door into the pouring rain outside. Hijaya collapsed into her husband's arms and wrapped his arms around herself. She let his warmth envelop her, and she let out a deep sigh. Jarat nuzzled up against her head. "Do you think he can do it?" he asked. His hands trembled as well. Hijaya smiled through her tears. She tried as best she could to put it into words what Aedan's back had spoken to her. She clasped her husband's shaking hands in her own, until neither trembled._

_"We've got nothing to be afraid of."_

* * *

**PART 2 END**

* * *

 


	20. Info

* * *

**Part 3: Hope**

* * *

  _"Brother!" Fergus's figure bounded out out of the neighboring street. His feet slapped against the wet road and he panted as he came to a stop. "Where are you going? Father's worried sick!"_

_"Your brother and I are following up on a lead regarding your elven friend's attacker," replied Kylon._

_When those words reached his ears, Fergus's eyes widened in panic. He grasped Aedan by the shoulders and gripped him tight. "Are you serious? Aedan, that man nearly killed you!"_

_"Fergus, Teharel is dying, and the only way we can save him is to find that man and bring him in." Aedan brushed off his brother's hands. He didn't have time for this, not even from his brother. Teharel's life was on the line._

_"Damn it, Aedan! This isn't some game! Stop playing hero or you'll get yourself killed! Leave this to the guards!"_

_"What am I supposed to do? Leave a friend to die?" shouted Aedan, his voice shaking._

_Kylon placed his hand on Fergus's shoulder. "Fergus, I hate to admit it, but your brother surpasses any of the guardsmen in skill- I need him for this."_

_Whilst the rain continued to fall, Fergus stood there, deliberating. He looked at his brother, in his eyes still the little Aedan who climbed up trees and played tag with him. To imagine him going off to fight...he couldn't. The wounds lay fresh on his body. Aedan gripped his sword till his knuckles went white. And that look of determination in his eyes- for once, Fergus felt shorter than his baby brother._

_"Then I'm coming with you," Fergus said, "You'll need all the help you can get, and although I'm not as good a fighter as Aedan, I can still hold my own."_

_"Not as good doesn't even begin to cover it," muttered Aedan under his breath. Fergus kicked his brother in the shin in response. "I heard that," he seethed back. Fergus had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming at Aedan to stay behind._

_The constable shook his head at their tomfoolery. After clearing his throat, the constable proceeded with his plan: "First off, I know the address Teharel gave you, but it's in gang territory. The crime bosses won't be too pleased that nobles and a guardsmen are sniffing around. I revile the thought, but we're going to need to visit the Gnawed Noble first, and get in contact with one of their associates."_

* * *

"It occurs to me that our need to go to Denerim might be more urgent than expected," mused Aedan. The entirety of the group sat circled around the boiling pot, save for Morrigan.

"I'm pretty sure the Chantry's gotten over the whole 'time to kill the Circle' thing by now; news has probably gotten to them," retorted Alistair, who yawned rather loudly and stirred the pot. Much to the relief of the others, Wynne had done the cooking this time, not the resident templar.

"Well, our armor and weapons are nearly broken-"

"We can always just strangle the darkspawn-"

"We're almost completely broke and out of food-"

"I find hunger and poverty to be the best spice-"

While he appreciated his comrade's humor, the former noble also appreciated silence when deliberating. The side of his mouth twitched as Aedan struggled not to punch the other warden. "Alistair, you're just pumping out those quips, aren't you?"

"Well, thought you'd get a rise out of it," shrugged Alistair.

Looking at the sheepish grin on the unkempt templar's face, Aedan found it hard to stay mad at him. Aedan rubbed his temples and sighed. "And we should probably assess the political situation and see why everybody is so keen to kill us."

"Yes, you probably should," replied the tied up elf.

Aedan glared at him; only a few hours ago the elf, Zevran, had tried to slit Aedan's throat. Now they had tied him to a tree for the time being. The fight had been difficult to say the least. A large company of assassins and even a mage had cornered them. The others made short work of the lesser assassins while Aedan had concentrated on Zevran. The elf's attacks were swift and accurate, all aimed at his vitals. However, Aedan had experience in fighting spry elves. The one he had practiced against was faster.

"I say we kill him, before he kills us." Morrigan appeared out of the woods, startling Aedan and the others. The assassin's attack had put them all on edge. It didn't help that Morrigan tended to appear and disappear at her leisure; she didn't care to mingle with others, save for Aedan.

"We're not going to kill him, Morrigan."

"Why not? We killed the rest."

"We did because we had to. Now we have time to deliberate."

A wild fit of coughing, courtesy of Zevran, interrupted Morrigan and Aedan's exchange. "Allow me to make an offer, Warden," said the elf, still with that cheeky grin.

"Which one?" asked Alistair.

"Excuse me?"

With a hurt expression, Alistair pointed to himself. "I'm a Grey Warden too."

The best he could, Zevan shifted towards Alistair and eyed him up and down. The templar fidgeted as Zevran's gaze lingered where it shouldn't. The elf's gaze returned to eye level with Alistair. "Really. Doesn't seem like it."

Alistair slouched over and grumbled. "That's what they all say."

"Don't listen to him, buddy, he's just being fresh," said Aedan. His fellow warden's expression brightened. Aedan turned back to Zevran. "And that doesn't help your chances of living."

"I jest, I jest. Just a little fun. I was given both your likenesses. Back to my earlier topic: how would you like to employ my services?"

Aedan mulled over the offer in his head. On the one hand, the elf had just tried to kill him...on the other-

"We could use an assassin, but we have little coin," said Aedan.

"I was thinking more along the lines of protection. Once the Crows know that I've failed, they'll come after me to close up loose ends, as will the regent's men. Now, if I had a powerful friend protecting me, perhaps they would not be so keen as to come after me, yes?" The elf made a wide grin and pouty eyes.

"I cover your back, you cover mine?" The man folded his arms in thought. The one thing you could count on at least was people trying to save their own skins.

"Exactly."

The fight against Uldred had been hard-fought, and more bodies couldn't hurt. A nod of Aedan's head motioned Leliana to undo the ropes. "Let's get going then. We're headed to Denerim."

"No need." When Zevran lifted his arms, the ropes fell limp. "I've taken the liberty."

* * *

While the others packed up their gear, Aedan saddled up the horses. The villagers had been all too happy to spare the horses for them after Aedan and the others had saved them from darkspawn. Morrigan wandered over and began poking and examining the saddles. "Curious," she muttered, "that such swift creatures would allow themselves to be subjugated. Then again, they're not too bright."

"Do you not know how to ride a horse?" asked Aedan. He had the feeling she didn't, based on her reaction to the saddle.

"I merely had to travel in animal form; never ride one of those...things." Morrigan shuddered as the horse lazily chewed it's grass. "I shall ride with you, as the other are not quite so...kind of company."

"I can hear you, and it's you that's the ass, not me," called Alistair whilst he mounted his horse.

"I did not hear you, there seems to be a child whining somewhere. Perhaps someone should tend to it."

"You're really just proving my point."

The witch scoffed without looking at the templar. Her attention turned to the animal before her, which Aedan had already mounted. Staring at Aedan, she stood there waiting. After Aedan gave her a confused look, she rolled her eyes and said, "Alright, pick me up."

"That's not how you get onto a horse. How did you think I got on?"

Morrigan muttered under her breath, "-lept or something." She attempted to grab the horse and pull herself up, but to no avail. Her legs flailed in mid air while the horse whinned. Aedan stifled a laugh. Such a sharp tongue and powerful magic, and yet the woman lacked practical strength. The mage glared at the chuckling Aedan. Her cheeks reddened a bit. "I will have none of this. Pick me up," she muttered, with her voice softening.

"Fine, fine, my lady." Aedan grabbed her waist and lifted her up with surprising ease. She shifted back and forth trying to find a comfortable position. Once she stopped fidgeting, Morrigan leaned forward against Aedan's back, sliding her arms around his waist and holding him tight.

Aedan coughed into his hand. "You don't have to hold me that close."

"No, I don't." Morrigan squeezed tighter. Aedan felt something warm flesh press against his back. He could already tell she had that devious smile on her face without even looking behind him. It took every ounce of willpower to keep a straight face and not concentrate on the woman behind him.

Aedan wasn't that dense: the stolen glances, the touching, the sultry voice, they had only increased since that night after the Circle of Magi.

Whilst the group rode towards Denerim, Aedan contemplated her possible endgame. Everyone had an angle. Morrigan voiced her opinions more readily than most, but that didn't mean she kept no secrets. Flemeth sent her for a reason, and no doubt Morrigan was trying to get into his better graces.

What bothered him the most is how good she was at doing so. The minute he decided he would tell her to back off, she became cold and gave him his space. The minute he missed her presence and advances, she'd appear. He had been foolish up until- he hadn't realized he had let her get this close, let her insinuate herself into his daily routine.

Worse was how much he enjoyed it. She always inquired about the world beyond the Wilds, and Aedan liked talking with her. She'd make a snide comment and he'd chuckle to himself. She'd notice and give that enticing smile of hers. He'd make a joke and for once she'd laugh and smile, unlike with the others.

He glanced backwards at her. Unlike before, her attention now fixated on the mountains to the north. Her gaze had softened. Her eyes watched the jagged edge of the mountain line as it zig-zagged across the sky. She caught Aedan looking at her in her daze and stuttered in a flustered tone, "What are you smiling about?"

"Nothing. I just remembered how you told me you wanted to see the mountains." Even though she maintained a high level of control, Aedan enjoyed finding a way to catch her offguard. He caught himself mid-thought and wrenched his head forward. He needed to concentrate. Now wasn't the time or place to get attached, and especially not to Morrigan.

The drunken advice of his brother came to mind, relayed after a particularly rowdy night of shots: "Aedan, Aedan, buddy! Don't ever poop where you eat: I know you're hankering after that new maid, but keep it in your pants, buddy. Damn she's a fine woman." Considering the new maid had more wrinkles than Mother, Aedan was fairly certain that his brother had had one too many.

The advice still held true though. Getting involved with Morrigan, whom he constantly traveled with, could hamper the mission. Even worse, what if he let her get close, and she betrayed him, just like Howe? He wouldn't let something like that happen ever again. Better to stay at a distance.

Despite his thoughts, his eyes wandered again to Morrigan. That alluring neckline, that perfect lithe body, her porcelain-like face. He glanced out of the corner of his eyes at her, but she stared at the mountains, too distracted by their grandeur to notice him. Aedan forced his head forward again. He needed to get her out of his head: nothing good could come of it.

Assassins, apostates, and archdemons. Letting the wind cool his face and mind, Aedan rubbed his brow with his spare hand. He needed a break.

* * *

"Alright, Sten, Alistair, you two are in charge of equipment and repairs. Here's the rest of the money, find someway to get us some decent equipment. Wade's good, but his prices can be a little steep. There might be some cheaper merchants somewhere in the Market District. Morrigan, you should-"

"I do not wish to enter the city- tis too many templars about." Morrigan crossed his arms and planted herself by the forest's edge.

"You could just shapeshift," suggested Aedan.

The woman did not budge, and her arms tightened. "And it is far too noisy, and smells of filth." The image of the dirty streets sent a scowl across her face.

"It'd really be better if you came with us, Morrigan. We need to stick together."

"I shall be find on my own; I shall be gathering supplies from the nearby forests."

"Morrigan-"

She gave him a stern look. Clearly she didn't want to go into the crowded city. Aedan relented and waved her off to the forest. "Fine." Aedan blinked once, and the witch had vanished beneath the veil of leaves.

"Leliana, Wynne, go to the chantry and sort out the whole Circle business. Wynne, you're a Circle mage, and Leliana, you used to be a sister, so they should trust you.

"Zevran, you're coming with me. I have some business I need to take care, some old contacts who could do some favors for us. I'll try and scrounge up some gold for our trip and gather information. I could use someone of a stealthy nature."

"Hold on-" Leliana handed Alistair and Aedan both a folded brown cloth. Aedan wrapped his hands around the rough burlap cloth and shook it. The cloak unfurled and flapped against the wind. "I doubt that you will want people to recognize you, no? I bought them from a merchant on the way here for you two."

"Thank you for the gift, Leliana." Aedan wrapped the cloak about his leather armor and pulled up the hood. "Let me see how much this covers." Kneeling in front of the nearby river, the warden peered at its glassy surface.

Despite the flimsy material, the cloak did a good job; neither his face nor weapons were visible. Upon seeing his own cloaked figure, Aedan's mind wandered to Adair's image, on that wretched night in Denerim. Cloaked, hooded, and performing his mission in secret. The irony provoked a grim smile.

As the group walked through the gate and scattered, Aedan couldn't help but fidget. Alistair and Sten had taken both his sword and shield to be repaired. The only weapon he had on him was Nan's kitchen knife. His uneasiness faded as he wrapped his hands around the handle. To be fair, the knife had always gotten him out a pinch. The guards eyed him, but didn't move to apprehend him. With the knife hidden in his pocket, and no other visible weapons, Aedan didn't appear to pose any threat to them, despite his suspicious hooded nature.

Denerim. It had been awhile. The market district bustled with chatter. Instead of the drab ragged refugees of Lothering, the square filled to the brim with colorful merchants and finely dressed nobles. Commoners too mingled in, purchasing fresh food and chatting with each other. The chaos of the Blight hadn't reached the city yet; the people could still smile and laugh. Aedan was thankful for that.

He and Zevran made their way through the crowded market square until he came upon his destination. The familiar sight of the Teryn of Highever's estate lay in front of him. Guards had been posted around the entrance, but Aedan could still see past the gate into the courtyard The old tree he used to climb still stood; during his youth, when his father met at the Landsmeet, he would climb up and play with his brother.

"And why, pray tell me, are we at Teryn Howe's estate?"

Just like that, the idyllic daydream shattered. Aedan's vein almost popped. "What the hell did you just say?" Without thinking, Aedan grabbed the elf by the collar and pulled him upwards.

"Why are we at Teryn Howe's est-"

"Teryn Howe." The words burned in his mouth and left a sour aftertaste. Zevran removed Aedan's fingers and dropped to the floor. "When the hell did that slimy bastard become Teyrn?" Aedan seethed.

"Didn't you hear about the Couslands?" Zevran brushed the dust off his tunic with quick swipes.

Aedan bit his tongue. "Do tell. I've been out of the loop for awhile." Almost two months now since he had fled Highever.

"The Couslands were conspiring with the Orlesisans, helping them get a foothold in Ferelden. Apparently Howe stumbled upon their treachery and stopped their plans. The entire family was slaughtered, save for..." Zevran smiled and pointed at Aedan, "you, Aedan Cousland."

The warden took a step back. "You know who I am?" His fingers pawed at Nan's knife. Despite the elf's earlier promise, it didn't hurt to be wary.

"You can relax with the knife, Warden. You're the only person that can keep me from being killed- I'm not going to hurt you...unless you try to hurt me."

With that, Aedan guided his fingers away from his knife. "There. Now, tell me why you know who I am."

Leaning up against the rugged stone wall, Zevran shrugged his hands outwards and stated as though it were obvious: "What sort of assassin would I be if I didn't research my target?"

"What sort of assassin can't kill his target?"

"What sort of Grey Warden tries to avoid killing? I noticed you could have killed me at anytime while we fought- and yet you drew it out unnecessarily just so you could disable me. Not that I'm complaining."

So Zevran had noticed. Aedan grumbled. That was another piece of information that Zevran had stacked against him. "I kill when I need to. Not because someone payed me off. A person's life is worth more than a sack of gold."

"How much would you say Howe's is worth than?" Zevran relished the words as they slipped off his tongue. Aedan's expression darkened and his teeth ground against one another. And his eyes- there was the briefest spark of something Zevran knew well. Zevran smiled. "I thought so."

"That's in the past. All of it." When Aedan stepped forward, he gave the elf a look so menacing even Zevran calm smile faded. "Right now, I need to get into my...Howe's house."

With a grumble, the elf hoisted himself up onto the surrounding wall. He zig-zagged along the exterior wall, then returned with his findings. "There's guards everywhere, I doubt we can get in." What exactly were you planning to get out of this?"

"My old weapons, armor, the gold from our treasury." Aedan peered around the corner, weary of the guards' eyes. Hooded mysterious figures were generally not allowed anymore in the Teryn of Highever's estate. "Be useful," Aedan elbowed Zevran. "Sneak in or something. You know, all assassin-like."

"I won't be able to carry anything out of substantial worth without being notice by guards. You ever tried sneaking a whole suit of armor out of a palace? I have, and the Antivan royalty was not happy at all."

"That...actually sounds like an interesting story. You'll have to tell me sometime."

"Another time Warden, for both that story and this requisition of yours." Zevran sighed. "I used to know quite the saucy little thief. A pity that she's probably fled the Blight by now. Isabela never was the type to rise to the occasion."

"Go back and meet up with Alistair and Sten; they'll need help carrying the equipment...and most likely they don't know their way around the city."

"Are you sure you just want me to go off on my own? What if I come back and assassinate you?"

"I take care of my comrades, Zevran; whether you choose to stand behind me or get in my way, that's your choice. I may not like killing, but if you try to hurt me or anybody else, I'll do to you what I plan on doing to Howe."

Zevran saluted him nonchalantly, "Don't worry, Warden." With that, Zevran slipped into the nearby crowd. Once Zevran had left, Aedan was left wondering: what was he going to do to Howe? Gut him? Jail him? Leave him to hang above the ruins of Castle Highever? He honestly didn't know.

* * *

Walking into the Gnawed Noble, Aedan was greeted by the familiar sight of nobles chatting away and partaking in drink. He paused briefly as he passed his usual booth. Looking more closely, he could still see the his initials carved onto the side of the table. His hand lingered on the wooden booth, as he considered sitting down for old times sake. Maybe call over a bar wench, get rowdy, and drink away his troubles. He certainly had enough of those.

The fantasy faded, and Aedan realized he had lingered a bit too long at the booth. A serving girl looked at him suspiciously. Aedan zipped over to a seat at the bar, away from any other nobles. He tapped twice on the counter.

"Coming, coming," said the bartender, Ewan. Aedan had always been a frequenter of the Gnawed Noble, even before he knew Evan's true associations. Before asking for his order, Ewan furrowed his brow at the sight of the hooded man in front of him. "Do I know you?"

"Has it really been that long, Ewan?"

"I-" Ewan peered in further underneath the hood. "Maker. They said you all died."

"Who? Grey Wardens, or Couslands? People really don't seem to like me alive." Aedan pointed to the scotch on the wall.

"Hasn't it always been like that?" chuckled Ewan, who slid a glass over and poured Aedan a scotch. "On the house. I owe you that much. You tipped well, unlike some other bastards here. Besides, you're the person in this bloody city who needs it the most."

The glass was cold to the touch. Aedan lifted the glass and sipped the drink, letting it swirl in his mouth. He had missed the taste of a good scotch.

Aedan nursed his drink as Ewan relayed the events that had played out since Ostagar. Loghain had arrived and declared the Grey Wardens traitors. It had been easy for him to blame them on the Orlesians, just as he did the Couslands. Loghain was now regent, with Anora serving as a figurehead- the last tie to the throne. Even more disconcerting, however-

"Let me get this straight- there's a Blight on our doorsteps, and we're at civil war." In one last swig Aedan emptied his entire glass into his throat. He winced at the burning against his throat.

"When Loghain acted without the Bannorn's approval, he stepped on a lot of toes."

The light outside dimmed, and most of the bar already cleared out. Whilst scrubbing down the counter, Ewan leaned in and pulled out a ragged piece of paper. "By the way...a friend of yours asked me to give this to you. He spotted you today and figured you might come here. You know how him and I don't exactly get along." Ewan shook his head and stifled a laugh. "That bastard. You hear he's Sergeant now?"

Ewan slid the paper across the worn bar surface. Aedan unfolded the slip and read the words:

_to A_

_meet me at the pearl. h didnt confiscate everything._

_K_


	21. Responsibility

  _The smell of booze permeating the air reminded Aedan of Teharel. The elf often smelt like a dwarf- filthy and drunk. The same scent lingered in the Gnawed Noble's bar during peak hours. Workers, nobles, and merchants alike gathered at the bar's crooked wooden tables._

_"Ah, Ewan, there you are." Kylon sat down at the bar before the bartender. The bearded man halted mis-pour of another drink, and the vodka spilled out a little._

_Aedan took a seat besides Kylon. "Ewan? You know Kylon?"_

_"Aedan? Fergus?" The bartender looked at the two nobles, then back at Kylon, then back at them again. A sinking feeling grew in his stomach._

_"You know Ewan?" asked Kylon._

_"I come to the bar here on occasion whenever we're in town. Are you the contact here Ewan?" asked Aedan._

_"Well, Kylon, you just bloody lost me two regulars." The bartender scowled at the officer and pointed at the door._

_"I don't give a shit about you, Ewan," replied Kylon with equal disdain. He leaned up against the bar and whispered, "I need to get into contact with D."_

_"Really, is that how you're going to be? I take this bloody informant position, risking my neck, and you treat me like shit?"_

_"Don't kid yourself, Ewan- we could have let you rot in a cell for your crimes. You're lucky we offered you this."_

_Two rather burly men swaggered over to Aedan and the others. Out in the open, strapped to their side, were rather sharp looking weapons. Ewan gulped and tugged at his collar. He made frantic eye movements at Kylon, beckoning him to the door._

_"Hey, you got some business with our friend here?"_

_"None at all sir, none at all," smiled Fergus the best he could, elbowing Aedan to back away. Aedan's feet stood planted where they were._

_"Who the hell are you supposed to be?" The man poked Aedan square in the chest, breathing his rancid breath on him._

_Fists clenched, Aedan struggled to keep his mind sane. All he could think about was Teharel, laying dying in the hospital, but he knew the situation needed to be handled with finesse. "Nobody. Just here on business with the Constable," seethed Aedan._

_"Well see, that's the problem. We don't like his kind poking his nose into our business. Now scram." The burly man waved his hand towards the door. His smile infuriated Aedan; so cocky, so condescending._

_Kylon stepped forward between the two. "I'm afraid we can't do that. I need to see D."_

_"Why the bloody hell would we let you meet our boss? I don't think he'd take too kindly to the authorities lounging around in his territory."_

_"Look, I don't know who you are, which means that clearly you are pretty far down on the chain of command in the gang, as I know most of the bigger players. You are neither important enough to warrant a second glance from D, nor are you insignificant enough to escape the eyes of the law."_

_The gang member slanted his eyes at Kylon. A low growl escaped from his clenched teeth. Kylon rolled his eyes. "A little bit cliche of me to say, but we can either do this the easy way, or the hard way. And based on how angry and desperate my friend is over here, it'll be very painful for you."_

_Before Kylon could react, the sound of a dozen swords unsheathing filled the air, followed by the gang member's reply: "Oh, I'm sure it will be very painful."_

_"Please...please don't kill me!"_

_"I'm not going to kill you, for goodness sakes," groaned Aedan as he untied the man. The whimpers and sniffling were however getting on his nerves. After Aedan and the others had dispatched the other men, Kylon had rounded up the other guardsmen to take them into prison. The other eleven lay beaten and battered. Blood streamed from their wounds; not enough to kill them, as it was only skin deep. Despite his rage, Aedan still knew restraint. He rubbed his black eye in irritation. He tossed aside a shard of broken glass and cringed as it shattered into tinier pieces. He looked at the waitress and mouthed an apology, but she only glared back._

_"Just arrange a meeting with D for us, okay? Be back here before sundown, or else your friends are going to rot in the dungeons. And I'm sure D wouldn't be too pleased if they happened to snitch about anything, now would he?" The constable held back a laugh as the lackey booked it out of the bar. Ewan, however, was not as amused._

_"You could have completely blown my cover, you asshole." The bartender spat on the bar counter whilst shining it._

_"Is that how he gets the counter so shiny? I never knew." Fergus lifted his arms off the counter and grimaced at it._

_"I'm sorry, Ewan, we're just in a time constrained situation right now. I promise to make it up to you." Kylon slid a piece of paper towards Ewan. Despite his skeptical mood, the bartender peeked underneath the paper._

_After a slight pause, a glass of ale slid down the counter. "Apology accepted, asshole."_

* * *

_The hour of twilight had come, and with it a knock on the door._

_"Blow the candles out," came a voice from behind the door. Kylon nodded to Fergus, who blew out the candle. The smell of burning wax permeated the air and the darkness engulfed them. The footsteps of a rather heavy man, followed by the lightest of steps, creaked against the wooden floor._

_"Constable Kylon, a pleasure to finally meet you," breathed a rather throaty voice, "You're quite the up and coming guardsmen among your peers. See to it that you don't rise too quickly."_

_Kylon's usual quips were gone. Aedan couldn't see his face, but he heard an inaudible gulp across the room._

_"No need to worry, Constable. You can continue playing your little games of law and order. Just let me play in the shadows, and do the dirty work of society, and we'll be fine._

_"I'm more interested in why there are two Couslands standing here. What business might you two have with me?" An eerie terror shot through Aedan's veins. Such a calm voice, as though he owned the very city. Perhaps he did._

_"There's a warehouse in your territory that we need to get to." Aedan clasped his sword's hilt. His boots quaked._

_"Family secret, I see. You can take your hand off your sword. I've no intention of hurting those who've done me no wrong."_

_Aedan relaxed his hand. "Not our secrets, but my friend is going to die unless I can get the man who is after that information. He's extremely dangerous, and he's poisoned my friend."_

_"How dangerous? I'd like to know what sort of trouble you might be bringing to my turf."_

_"He's a master swordsman, able to take on a whole platoon of guards, and is armed with qunari explosives and poisons."_

_D took in a single breath of disdain. "This man wouldn't happen to be named Adair, now would he?"_

_Aedan took a sharp breath in. "He would."_

_Even in the darkness, Aedan swore he could see the glint of D's perfectly formed smile in the darkness. "Well, Ser Cousland, it seems we have a mutual enemy. And as they say, the enemy of your enemy-"_

_"-is your friend," finished Aedan, a sour feeling in his stomach._

* * *

Despite his familiarity with Denerim, Aedan had never sought to set foot inside of the Pearl, or even near it. Some of the other noble sons had partied there, and even the nobles themselves. Being the Teyrn of Highever's son, however, meant he had to keep a certain level of respectability. Prostitution didn't make the cut of approved activities.

Dirt caked his boots- nobody maintained the sidewalks very well here. Surprisingly, the Pearl's exterior looked far more grandiose than the surrounding buildings. Little candles lay perched around its roof, with silken scarves strewn through the rafters. One of their employees eyed Aedan up and down as he approached.

"You're not one of our regulars, but I'd be glad to help you get acquainted." She flashed him a lipstick smeared smile. It faded once she got a better look at him. She sighed in annoyance. "But it doesn't look like you're here for our business, do you?"

Aedan glanced around to make sure no one was watching. He couldn't be sure this wasn't a setup. "What makes you say that?"

"When you're on the streets, you learn to keep a lookout. Noble boys going through puberty, their pockets bursting with gold from their rich little fathers. Those shady fellows that follow you for a bit too long in the dead of the night."

The warden scoffed. "I'm a unshaven, unkempt hooded man in a cloak. I'd think I look like the kind of shady sort that comes here."

"We whores are smarter than you think. How else do you think we manage to squeeze piles of coin out of our customers? Most of the people who come here aren't shady at all: they're just looking for a good time, a little fun to brighten up their terrible day." The woman leaned in and brushed her fingers against Aedan's arm. "Although you do look like you've had a terrible time of it. Sure you're not interested?" said the whore, who plastered her face with that fake smile of hers.

"Well, you're right about one thing. I'm here on business." The whore dropped her smile again and stepped aside to let Aedan inside.

Once the sergeant noticed Aedan entering the lounge area, he gave him a discreet wave and beckoned him to the corner table. A rowdy group of mercenaries rabbled on the opposite side of the room, distracting the whores and customers from Aedan's arrival.

"So how'd you recognize me, Kylon? I've been trying my best; got a nice stubble going, covered myself up," said Aedan as he settled into the seat.

Kylon sipped on his beer. "They did a good job with the wanted poster, and unlike my coworkers, I tend to actually care about suspicious characters walking around in hoods."

Silence lingered whilst Aedan drummed his fingers against the table. Finally, once it had become unbearable, the warden asked, "So...do you believe it? What Loghain is saying?"

"Not one word. I doubt Grey Wardens would betray the king to help darkspawn. Then, when I saw your face on the posters, I knew it had to be a lie. Rest assured, Aedan. I'm not turning you in."

"That's good to hear. I have little enough friends as it is." Aedan tried to wave over the waitress, but she was held up with other orders. He drummed on the table with his fingers while Kylon stared into the bottom of his beer. Another few seconds of silence passed before Kylon said, "Aedan, my condolences regarding...your family."

Aedan said nothing. Having seen the estate earlier that day had left the wounds of the past fresh in his mind. "Tell me, how is it Howe was able to get away with it?" he asked with clenched teeth. His fingers dug into the table.

"Howe's a tricky bastard. He's bribed all the right people, and is now Loghain's right hand man. It seems he was planning this for awhile. He's left virtually no trail."

"Damn it. What about my estate? I saw he moved in: is there anything left? Being a Grey Warden doesn't exactly pay, and we need some amount of resources to keep going."

"He had everything confiscated and locked in his personal treasury. Well, almost everything."

Kylon hoisted a medium sized box from beneath the table. When Aedan held it in his hands, he remembered the day he had received the box: and when he remembered who gave it to him, he scowled.

"Before his guards raided your place, I snuck into your room and got this- couldn't open it though. Things solid as a rock."

Aedan ran his fingers over the box. "It's...a coin box. Special dwarven design lock, you have to know how to open it, and know the code. Only two people know how to open it with the code. Me...and the person who gave it to me."

How old had he been? Five, maybe six- Aedan couldn't remember exactly. It had been his birthday, and despite the Teyrn of Highever's high position within the political community, the party size had been kept to only the closest family friends. His fingers fiddled with the lock, shifting the gears about till the box made strange clicking sound.

"Howe."

Inside lay a sizeable pile of solid gold sovereigns. Some lay at the bottom, dusty and old. Others on the top had the newest mint upon them.

"I used to save them in here when I was little onwards," said Aedan, his voice barely audible, "Even some of the loot we found back then, you and me, I put it in here. Howe said, when he gave this to me, 'Learning to save your money will teach you to become a fine young man, worthy of being a noble.'"

Whilst he sifted through the coins, Aedan remembered what he had put in as the first thing, that very day of his birthday. He dug to the bottom, and pulled out an old, faded parchment. A horrendous drawing of a man holding hands with a tiny boy was scribbled upon it's surface. Written on the bottom, with the terrible handwriting of a five-year old:

"Me and Uncle Howe." The paper crinkled in Aedan's hands as he crumpled up the paper. With a flick of his wrist he tossed it into the nearby fireplace. He leaned his head in his hands, gritting his teeth. "How could I not have seen this coming? I bet he even gave me this box so he could steal all of it back from me later."

"You did the best you could Aedan. All of you did. It's not your fault."

"Maybe it's not my fault that Howe attacked, but..."

Aedam sighed and took a deep breath. He struggled to find the words to say what he had been thinking since that fateful day. "I left them, Kylon. My father was badly wounded. He and my mother stayed behind to give me and Duncan time to leave. I abandoned them in their time of greatest need, so I could live."

"Aedan, you can't blame yourself. It's a parent's job to put their child's safety above their own."

"I know, Kylon, but still. It's just so hard to shift perspectives like that. They are-"

His voice cracked.

"-were my family. We're supposed to look out for each other."

"Aedan. I know there's no words I can say to rid you of your grief. Time's the only cure for that. But right now, you can't keep worrying about the past Aedan. You've got a job to do now."

"Right, right," sighed Aedan, who motioned over at the waitress. "Sorry for all the...moping. A beer will set me right- actually, a scotch." The warden groaned- the waitress was held up by the incessant noise and orders of a nearby mercenary group. Kylon took the opportunity to change the tense atmosphere; he leaned in and pointed over at the rowdy mercenaries.

"See those mercenaries there? The White Falcons, rowdy old bunch. Sanga called me in here to get them to clear out, but they've pegged me as a guard, and they're quite anti-establishment. You mind convincing them to leave?"

A smile grew across Aedan's face. "Kylon, you dirty bastard, did you get me to come out here to do some of your work for you? No wonder they've promoted you.'

Despite the fact it would come out of his own paycheck, Kylon stated, "I'll pay you."

"And there's the magic words." Almost instantly, Aedan slapped both hands on the table and strode off.

* * *

"Aedan, it's been good seeing you again. I have no doubt that you'll be stopping by Denerim again, so if you ever need me, just call." With that, the Sergeant strode out the door of the Pearl, ignoring the looks of a rather burly looking prostitute.

Just as Aedan was about to get up and leave, a voice behind him purred, "A pity that you didn't put on more of a show in getting those louts to clear out. I do like a good fight." Still somewhat grumpy from the events of the day, Aedan turned around expecting yet another problem, but what he saw made him almost drop his drink. A tan-skinned pirate beauty leaned against the nearby booth. What she had on could barely be called an outfit; her breasts were barely corralled by her linen top. Thick black luscious hair fell to her shoulders and swayed as she approached. Her earrings glinted against the oil lamp's haze. Was she even wearing pants, or did the thigh high boots count? The woman sauntered over and flashed him a coy smile. "You look like you could use a break."

The woman slid into the neighboring seat, ever so slightly leaning up against Aedan. "Isabela, captain of the Siren's Call. So, here to sample the Pearl's delicious goods? I prefer Amber over there. Spicy between the sheets and the body of goddess."

Aedan had to pinch himself to concentrate on her eyes, not directly below. "Just business. They don't call us Grey Wardens for nothing- we have to keep working until our hair goes grey from stress."

Isabela leaned in closer to stare at Aedan. "Hmmm...You really do have that Grey Wayden aura about you," cooed the woman.

"Aura?"

"How can I describe it: it just sort of...draws people to you. A leader of men, savior of the innocent, ravisher of women, something like that." The woman licked her lips.

Aedan raised his eyebrows and chuckled. "Sounds about right." He glanced out the window. The sun had begun to set, and he had promised to meet the others in the morning. As his eyes wavered over Isabela, he couldn't help but want to make some time for her. He finished off his current glass and gasped for an air. "I have a couple of hours to kill, and I could certainly use a drink."

"Well," smiled Isabela, "that's good to hear. I too have some spare time: I leave Ferelden in the morn, lest the Blight take me." She waved over at Sanga. "Sanga my dear, two pints of ale for us!"

How long had it been since he had just sat down and enjoyed tomfoolery? Isabela's warm fingers glided across his arm as they conversed. A little fun wouldn't hurt. Get his mind off of that witch and her machinations. He needed to keep her out. He didn't have to worry about such concerns with current company: he'd never see Isabela again. Wouldn't have to worry about getting too attached, nor about ulterior motives.

"You seem to have been in quite few scraps yourself." He brushed his finger across her cheek, running it over a faint scar. Her cheek was warm and a little flushed from all the drinks they'd had. First had been the beers, then the shots, and then..what the hell were they even drinking now? Some weird cocktail the waitress had cooked up. He wasn't particularly sure he could trust a drink from the Pearl of all places, but damn did it taste good.

Isabela guided Aedan's hand to the side of her neck, where a long, thin mark snaked down it. "This one's from a dagger- from Tevinter guards when I hijacked their ship." She brought his hand back up to her face and let his finger graze the bottom of her lip to a small white scar. "Bar fight. Tequila's never dull, I'll say that. I've traveled about, dueling many blokes who never stood a chance."

Aedan let his finger fiddle with her lip. "Care to give me a few pointers?"

"Really? A Grey Warden asking me for combat advice? I'll take that as a compliment." The woman brushed her hair back and flashed him a smile.

"The man who believes he has nothing to learn from others is a fool," stated Aedan. He wasn't lying when he said he wanted advice; she had taken down those men rather quickly, and eventually he might have to face off against Howe and Loghain.

"My ships are are right over by the docks." Isabela intertwined her arm in his and pulled him against her chest. "I think you'll find my cabin to be a suitable arena."

* * *

"Remove that leather armor of yours. It'll constrict your movement and I think you'll find you'll need to be quick to keep up with me."

Isabela barreled forward and flipped right over Aedan's head. Unexpected. He had never faced such an acrobatic foe. He spun around just in time to dodge a flurry of blows from Isabela. He caught her wrist in his hand and pulled in her in tight. By the time he attempted to attack, she had jumped over her bed to the surrounding side.

"Mind your surroundings, Warden. Every duel has a setting that you can take advantage of."

Aedan smiled and slammed his hands against her bed, sending the wooden frame sliding towards Isabela. "Like I don't know that." The look on Isabela's face told Aedan that she had never quite faced a brute force opponent.

Despite the quick counterattack, Isabela dodged by swinging onto the ceiling. She catapulted at him. Aedan sidestepped and Isabela landed like a cat on all fours.

"Forceful, quick, but always keep your eye on the enemy. They may have a trick or two up their sleeves."

She stepped down on a creaky wooden plank, causing Aedan to lose his footing. The warden stumbled onto his back. Isabela landed on top of him, a dagger to him. In one swipe she grasped his shirt and tore it open with her knife.

In one swift movement, he grabbed her toned thigh and thrust her up against the wall. The cabin shook with the force, and Isabela gave a little moan. His lips hovered above hers, separated only by their breath. He could feel her soft voluptuous chest rise and fall against his own. He let the moment simmer and the heat build between them.

"I'll have you know I never lose in bed," panted Isabela through heated breaths. Her glanced downwards once at his lips, waiting impatiently.

"We'll have to see about that," he chuckled, before finally diving in for a kiss.

* * *

Isabela and Aedan collapsed, panting and tangled in each other's sweaty limbs and flushed bodies.

"I guess...we'll...have to call that one a tie," panted Isabela as she nuzzled up against Aedan.

"For once, I'll have to agree," chuckled Aedan back.

"I shall be setting sail soon, so I doubt our paths will cross again. Unless of course, you'd like to join my crew." Isabela rolled onto him, giving little kisses down his neck. Her hot sweaty skin burned against his own. "Your talents would be so wasted fighting darkspawn."

Aedan smiled for a moment, thinking what it would be like. Life on a pirate's ship, nothing but adventure and the sea at his back, with a beautiful woman by his side. Isabela's luscious body rubbing up against his certainly left nothing to the imagination.

"Unfortunately, I have an Archdemon to kill." He kissed her on the forehead and sat up.

Isabela pouted in disappointment. "The responsible type, hmmm. No fun at all. My advice to you; get laid more often. You're quite good at it and it'll keep the stress from killing you."

Whilst pulling a shirt over his head, a thought occurred to Aedan. Isabela had mentioned she was quite good at breaking and entering. "Care to have a little more fun?" he said with a sinister grin.

Isabela licked her lips and raised an eyebrow. "What did you have in mind?"

"Thievery, desecration of private property, alcohol."

Isabela pulled Aedan back down onto the bed and rolled back on top of him. "Careful, Warden. I may just kidnap you by force."

* * *

The orange glow of the sunset reflected against the dusty gold relics whilst Aedan sorted through them. It felt strange to actually touch these heirlooms. His father had never let him and his brother play in the vault, and as he had grown up, he had never seen a reason to go in there, up until now. After he and Isabela had made a run into his family's former vault, and a quick stop at their liquor cabinet, the two had scampered off into the dark towards the docks of Denerim.

His chest tightened seeing his family's old things sorted by him and Isabela, but Aedan pushed it down. Kylon was right; he had a job to do. He couldn't let the past prevent him from moving forward. Isabela had recommended a good pawn shop in the corners of the Market District that would take questionable goods.

Aedan hesitated before handing her a heavy sack of gold. "As promised, half the gold and loot."

"Ooh- I like this little blue bandanna- is this silk? I think I'll take that." Isabela who plucked the item from Aedan's pile and stuffed it into her own. The woman rifled through her bag of treasure with childlike glee, her eyes sparkling like it was her birthday. Better that the relics of the past be used for enjoyment, then sit collecting dust in Howe's possession, thought Aedan.

A sudden gust of wind rushed against his face, and the smell of the sea and the beautiful sunset at the docks overwhelmed him. Whilst the wind blew through his hair, he sat and enjoyed the brief respite from all the fighting. Aedan took his boots off and hung his feet from the docks. The salty water stung against the cuts and blisters on his feet.

With a different sort of smile, Isabela sat down besides him. "It's beautiful, isn't it? The sea," she whispered.

"Yeah." Aedan took a deep breath in of the salty sea breeze. "Calm."

"You sure you don't want to reconsider my offer? I'm being dead serious," the woman said. "All of the adventure, with none of the responsibility. You can escape it."

Aedan smiled sadly while looking at the rising sun reflected against the waves. "I'd love to. I really would- but I have to do this. People died to give me this chance, this one chance at stopping this Blight. If I don't, then no matter where I sail, no matter how hard I run, I could never live with myself knowing I could have saved even just one more life."

Isabela leaned her head against his shoulder and continued to gaze into the distance."You're a decent man, you know that. There are very few of you left in the world. It's good to know that someone like you is a Grey Warden, looking out for us. Gives me hope." Aedan turned to look at her. For the first time that night, Isabela gave him a tender, softer look. She hesitated before leaning in and pecking him on the lips, letting her lips linger for the briefest moment.

"That one's for good luck."

* * *

The rest of the morning, after Isabela's departure, lacked the adventure but more of the gold. The merchant had looked at Aedan's loot with wide eyed greed and attempted to hustle him out of the goods. Aedan had managed to make off with a decent enough deal. Enough that when he returned to the others and held up the sack:

"Maker," breathed Leliana, "where did that come from?"

Aedan scratched his cheek and looked away. "Savings."

Alistair however snatched up the sack and jingled the coins together. "I'm not complaining. How much is in here?"

"Enough for awhile." Aedan took back the bag and strapped it to himself. He mounted up onto his horse and turned to face the others. "Come on. We're going to Redcliffe. I've heard some rumors that the Arl is sick or something. Maybe you can help him, Wynne."

While the other mounted up onto their horses, Aedan once again picked up Morrigan and helped her up. As he pulled her in, Morrigan smelt something rather peculiar. She frowned and pinched his arm rather painfully. "You smell like filth. Did you roll in the mud or something?"

"Something like that," chuckled Aedan.

Morrigan glared at him and his irksome smile. "I think I shall accompany you next time into the city, lest you get in trouble again."

"Thought you said the city was filthy-" piped Alistair, before Morrigan whipped her head and gave him a stare that could kill an Archdemon

"I said I shall be accompanying him next time and that is that." Before Alistair could respond, Morrigan whipped her head back forward to the man before her. She grabbed onto him and took another sniff in. There was no mistaking the smell of another woman.

He is drawing away, she thought. She needed no extra complications. She needed to act quickly, lest her goals wander from her.

There was work to be done.


	22. Secrets

"One might think, that with the Mage Tower in such disarray, they might be privy to raiders and thieves," mused Morrigan, whilst stirring the stew.

Tonight was Aedan and Morrigan's turn to cook. The group had taken up rotations, with Zevran being excluded for reasons of poison, and Alistair being excluded for the similar reasons. Out of all of them, Aedan liked Morrigan's cooking the most, but he didn't dare tell her, lest she think he was ordering her to cook. Alistair's attempts to ask her to had ended with singed hair.

"They have a templar army and people who can throw fireballs- I think they'll be just fine, Morrigan." Aedan finished wiping off Nan's knife and sliced the onions. Aedan's money had come in handy to buy some decent produce from the nearby villages. His eyes stung as the odors wifted up to his eyes.

"Tis true; but certainly infiltration would not be out of the option for potential thieves."

A familiar feeling crept through Aedan: somebody wanted him to do something. Per usual. "By 'potential thieves', are you referring to me?"

Morrigan flashed him a coy smile. "Whatever do you mean my dear Warden? I'm certainly not suggesting that we go in and steal something like...oh I don't know..." With her finger to her lips, she pretended to think before snapping her fingers. "A book?"

"And what kind of book would this be- ow!" Holding his finger in his hand, Aedan winced as blood dribbled down his hand. He set aside the knife and applied pressure to his cut. Despite their time on the road, Aedan still wasn't very good at preparing meals.

"Aren't you supposed to be good with blades?" Morrigan unwrapped a roll of bandages from her pack. "Hold out your hand." Aedan grumbled and held out his bloody finger. Morrigan continued to talk whilst she wrapped his hand. "My mother, several years ago, lost a certain grimoire to a rather pesky templar, much to her ire. With you in the good graces of the tower, and seeing as how we are returning there to deliver the Chantry's response, you would be the ideal candidate to retrieve said grimoire."

"What's inside? Spells? Rituals?" Aedan flexed his bandaged fingers out after Morrigan had finished. Hopefully it wouldn't get in the way of his fighting, but Morrigan had wrapped it well around the contours of his fingers. His fingers moved freely and unrestricted.

"Something that caused my mother to drop that conniving little grin of hers and burn half the Wilds down in anger. I assume it to be quite valuable. It could greatly help my own abilities, in and out of combat." Morrigan threw in the rest of the vegetables into the pot, and motioned her hands quickly; the fire simmered down at her command. The practical uses of magic, besides eliminating enemies, never failed to amuse Aedan. During his time at Castle Highever, his mental image of mages were old, wizened creatures who conquered up storms, or hideous swamp witches that kidnapped children. He had at least gotten the swamp witch part right, and was thankful he hadn't gotten the hideous part right.

"Alright, so it's useful. Why not ask someone more stealthy, like Zevran?"

"Before or after he finished lecherously staring at my breasts?"

"Or Leliana?"

"Before or after she finished lecherously staring at my breasts?"

Aedan blinked twice. "She does tha- I mean, someone could spot me rifling through their belongings, not to mention there's a whole tower." He coughed into his hand, trying very hard to hide his expression. Morrigan smirked again, leaning over him to peer into the contents of the pot. Aedan tried his best not to glance sideways.

"I believe out of all the fools that we travel with that you are the least foolish."

"Not sure if that's a compliment."

"The others wouldn't understand that the contents of that book could help us. They would simply label it apostate magic and refuse. You, however, are much more tolerant of my kind." Morrigan brushed aside a stray black bang from her face as she smiled at Aedan. "I am thankful for that."

With a smile like that, Aedan couldn't find it in himself to say no: the man groaned. "I'll get the book, don't worry. Though, if you wanted this book that badly, you didn't have to be all flirty for the past few weeks. I am a reasonable individual."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Warden," replied Morrigan rather coyly, resting her head on his shoulder.

"There- the sultry voice, you don't need to do that anymore, you've got what you wanted."

"Have I now?

"Stop."

"Once you stop lecherously staring at my breasts."

The smell of Morrigan's hair lingered about him while she continued to set next to him. Despite his protests, Aedan couldn't find it in himself to ask her to move.

* * *

"Ah, my friend, good to see you again!" Irving limped over to Aedan and gave him a hearty handshake. Despite it having been a few weeks, Irving still looked ragged.

"Everything okay, Irving?" asked Aedan. Looking around at the tower, Aedan could tell it would take some more time till they were ready to march on the darkspawn.

"The events that transpired still weigh heavy upon us like a veil. It shall take some time," said Irving, understanding the look in Aedan's eyes. "But don't worry. We'll be ready."

Aedan nodded. "Have the templars let you back into your quarters yet?"

"No, they're still performing cleanup and maintenance. Construction workers have been recruited to help renovate the previously damaged structures. The templars are even collaborating with us to add magical wards in case this happens again."

"Collaborating?" Aedan raised his eyebrows. "That's good to hear. After all this, I thought the templars might get a little...constrictive."

"Uldred was a rogue mage, who felt suffocated by the circle. Gregoir, and all the other templars, know that pushing someone too far, especially a mage, can lead to drastic consequences. It can just be hard to remember that, with the threat of our magic ever looming. But by cooperating with them, and with understanding on both sides, I think that we can make the Circle a much more tolerant and understanding place." Beneath Gregoir's grand beard, Aedan saw a great smile that spread across the man's wrinkled face. For some reason, it warmed his heart to see a smile filled with such hope.

"That's a good vision to have." Aedan wistfully sighed and gazed at the mages, scurrying back and forth between the makeshift rooms on the first floor. "I've just been so focused on surviving each new fight that I'd almost forgotten that this Blight is going to end one day...and the world will keep turning."

The mages would have their peace. The people would have their lives. Despite that, Aedan wondered: what was left for him at the end of all this? Shaking off the feeling of anxiety, Aedan turned back to the elderly mage. "Say, Irving, do you think they'd let me upstairs? I misplaced some of my equipment awhile back."

* * *

"Book, bound and delivered." Aedan pulled the book out of his knapsack. With a grin, he placed it in Morrigan's hand's.

Her eyes alit with a rare expression of wonder and joy. "Part of me thought you might not be able to find it, but...I am grateful. Thank you. I shall begin to decipher it's content immediately."

"Alright, Morrigan, good night then." Turning back towards camp, Aedan felt an electric jolt run through his hand as Morrigan unexpectedly grab it. Confused, he turned back around to meet her alluring gaze.

"I am surprised that you would not ask for a reward. Tis usually the custom- equivalent exchange, no?" Morrigan bit her lip.

That voice again. So irritating, yet so alluring. "Consider it a gift," Aedan replied, prying his hand from her grasp.

She stepped in closer. "And what if I wish to reward you?"

"What if I don't want a reward?"

"As a noble, shouldn't you know that it is impolite to turn down a lady's gratitude."

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not a noble anymore."

The witch pressed herself up against him. Her arms glided to his shoulder. "Well, Warden?" whispered Morrigan in his ear. Her cheek brushed against his as she drew back. While her eyes met his, he felt the warmth of her forehead press up against his. Only a hair's breadth apart, their lips hovered and burned. Only a while ago, he had been in a similar situation- and yet unlike then his heart pounded against his chest, threatening to burst forth, almost painfully.

He brought his hand to her face and pushed aside a stray lock of hair. Morrigan leaned in, even closer. Still so close, still yet so far.

Wavering, he grasped her shoulders. The cold Fereldan air, coupled with her lack of practical clothing, had left her cold. He unconsciously pulled her body in closer to his. Her eyes fluttered shut. She let out one heated breath that lingered against his lips.

_Keep her at a distance. Don't._

With all his willpower, he stepped backwards. Before Morrigan could react with her teasing, he leaned in and planted a single tender kiss on her forehead. "I'll see you in the morning." As he departed to his tent, Morrigan stood there wordlessly. She sighed once and planted herself against a nearby log. A sour expression spread across her lips as she watched Aedan's back go off into the distance.

Morrigan thumbed through the pages of her books. Strange symbols, somewhat reminiscent, lay written. Whispers of ancient magic beckoned to Morrigan. She scanned the words, her lips mouthing the incantations, a mad smile creeping across her face- but her gaze wandered over the edge of the ancient tome and fell upon Aedan, playing with his dog. For awhile, it remained there, whilst her forehead faintly burned.

* * *

_"Around several days ago, a man and his associates stole several weapon and poison shipments from my trade routes. My underlings informed me that he used qunari explosives, and fought using dual blades. When they brought the bodies to me, I recognized his style of cuts." D flicked his finger casually whilst chewing on...something. "We used to work together, him and I. Until he betrayed our team. I thought him long ago having rotted in a dungeon."_

_"I thought the same of his associate, Victor," said Aedan." I helped apprehend him when he tried to kill King Maric- apparently he's been set free as well."_

_"Then it seems that I am not the only corrupt element in Denerim to be worried about, it seems, Kylon," slithered the crime lord._

_The comment elicited a scowl from the officer. "Tell me something I don't know."_

_A question formed in Aedan's mind; a connection that could exist: "You wouldn't happen to know an elf by the name of Teharel would you?" he asked. He wringed his hands together, waiting for D's response._

_D took a sharp breath in. An uncomfortable silence loomed. "That little piece of shit. That's where he stored everything. Figured he'd put it right under my nose." His voice was almost like a snake hissing._

_"So you know him?" Aedan hadn't expected that. For all he knew, the elf had just stayed inside the Alienage. Then again, what he hadn't known had come to kill the two of them last night._

_"Yes..." D's voice wavered before he asked quietly, "is he the dying friend you spoke of?" To Aedan, his voice seemed to have aged. The sharp tones and smirks had gone and been replaced by genuine concern._

_"He is."_

_A single candle alit in the darkness. D stood, hooded and draped in a ragged leather cloak that obscured the entirety of his being. Even in the dim light, Aedan could see the countless daggers and swords strapped to the man's body. "Then I shall help you. Loyalty among comrades is something I still value, unlike Adair. I owe that much to that geezer of an elf."_

* * *

_The ongoing torrent of rain splattered down upon Aedan's cloak. By this point, his clothing was soaked. He regretted not actually wearing proper armor; he hadn't had a chance to procure proper equipment. He and Fergus shivered from their soaked clothing, whilst D and Kylon silently trudged on. Despite the cold, Aedan didn't mind. His mind was racing and the past few hours had been a blur. Every hour, every minute, every second that they delayed, death closed in on Teharel._

_"What exactly is in this warehouse?" asked Aedan, who could take the silence no longer. Teharel had mentioned something- 'when you see what's in there, don't think any less of me'. The words had lingered on in Aedan's mind. Any thread of information might be the key to capturing Adair._

_"According to my underlings, paintings and other valuable works of art that I've collected over the years. According to your information, however, Teharel must have hid records of some kind in there. He must have known I'd run good security on that warehouse."_

_"Records that Adair is willing to kill for apparently. Do you have any idea what's on these records?"_

_The crime lord hesitated for several seconds, before relenting. "Teharel seemed to trust you enough with the information of this warehouse," he sighed, "so perhaps he would have wanted you to know the truth about our little group._

_"Shortly after Maric had united Fereldan and freed us from Orlais, the country was in a developmental phase. Arlings were being divied, debts were to be repaid, and alliances to be forged in blood. Not everyone agreed with Maric though._

_"In war time, it's so easy to unite beneath that one flag to stand together strong- but when the dust settles, when peace has come, that's when the true snakes and vultures come out to make their claims. Nobles squabbling over territories, dissenters threatening to pull away, and other sorts of problems. Diplomacy can only go so far. Sometimes, you need someone to go do the dirty work. So they hired a clandestine squad of criminals, mercs, and other lowlifes to do it."_

_Is this what Teharel had been talking about? thought Aedan. "You were assassins?"_

_D shrugged. "Please. The government has the army and knights for things like that. Or the Crows. We were whatever was needed of us. We burned villages. Tortured innocents for information. Covered up certain aspects of the government. We had a singular focus: the advancement of the kingdom." The casual tone in which D spoke chilled Aedan to his bones. To be able to talk about slaughtering an entire village so casually: Aedan hope he would never reach that point. Was this the kind of man it took to be a crime lord? Even worse, could Teharel actually be this kind of man?_

_Unnerved, Fergus struggled to ask, "Was Maric the one who sanctioned this?"_

_"Of course not. He was the symbol of hope for this country; he had to remain untainted and pure. But there were those who knew work had to be done. To this day, I don't know who they were. They acted through intermediaries and proxies. All I know for sure is that had influence. We needed weapons: we got the finest blacksmithing possible. We needed identities to get into a banquet: fully furnished disguises and established identities."_

_D stifled a grim laugh. Aedan looked at him curiously. Beneath his hood and mask, he couldn't tell the man's expression._

_"And that was the beauty of it. Even if you went outside and tried to tell this story, even with the evidence in this warehouse, no one would ever believe you. There are no paper trails that lead back to the throne, only unsigned letters and the words of murderers." Chuckling, D scratched his chin in thought. "I wonder- it hasn't been long since the death of Maric. The country is in turmoil once again. I doubt that those who gathered our little band of brothers are sitting idly by whilst they can manipulate things in their favor. I've profited quite abit so far- I can only imagine that they are taking action as well."_

_"Perhaps they are the ones who arranged for the release of Adair and Victor," mused Aedan. "You said they had a lot of influence."_

_"I doubt they would release the man who tried so very hard to kill their precious king. As for Adair, I'm not sure he would ever work for them again. No, he probably has something else planned entirely."_

_The buildings had begun to grow closer and closer together, and the roads filled with grime and rain. D signaled the group into a darkened alleyway._

_"This better not be a trap," growled Kylon. He shifted and turned back and forth, his eyes looking for any sign of ambush. Despite D's earlier promises, Aedan didn't blame Kylon for his weariness. There was something cold about the man's demeanor, like he wouldn't bat an eye to kill all of them._

_"Do you plan to kill him?" asked D._

_"What? I-" Aedan stuttered as he looked down, "we need to capture him to get the poison." The question had come out of nowhere. Even worse, Aedan had just made such a weak excuse. No doubt they could take the poison off of Adair's body. D snarled and spat on the ground._

_"That indecisiveness will get you and others killed. Imagine- if you had simply gutted that Victor fellow, he wouldn't be alive to cause trouble for you now. Perhaps you could have managed to save Teharel."_

_"I didn't- and I don't- have the right." Aedan looked straight at the man, who still had the back of his head towards him. "That's for the courts of Ferelden to decide. When we find Ada-"_

_For the first time that evening, D whipped around to face him. "You'll what? Bat at him with your little sword? Kick him a bit?" Beneath the hood, Aedan could make out the face of a man with deep set eyes, tired and filled with darkness. Looking down upon Aedan, D laughed with putrid scorn. Aedan's face burned, whilst Fergus thumbed at his sword. "Even if you let Kylon bring him in, then he will simply be released again, no doubt by those within the Fereldan government._

_"He is stronger than you. He is faster than you. He is more experienced than you. What the hell makes you think that you can kill him, let alone manage to capture him?"_

_The scarred man's face contorted into a sinister smile._

_"What hope do you have?"_


	23. Plan

"Alistair, you've been fidgeting for awhile."

The templar jolted at the sudden conversation. Aedan stared at him while Alistair mustered up his courage.

"It is quite annoying,"said Sten, looking Alistair straight in the eyes.

After giving the cold qunari a death glare, Alistair cleared his throat. "I need to tell you something." A nervous tick arose in his voice.

"Alright, shoot."

Alistair closed his eyes and muttered to himself. Fists clenched, he whispered his speech silently in preparation. Zevran coughed, interrupting Alistair's concentration. The templar glared at the elf, before turning back to Aedan. Alistair took a few more moments to gather himself, patting himself down and wiping the sweat from his face. Aedan had never seen the man so strung up: he was usually lighthearted and tried his best to put a smile on. With all the death and destruction around them, Aedan always appreciated Alistair's efforts. Yet now, Alistair's brow furrowed and a slight frown replaced his usual grin. Aedan owed his fellow a warden an ear.

"So, remember how I mentioned the Arl raised me? Well...there's a reason for that. I was a bastard, you see-" His teeth ticked and hesitated before stating, "My father...is King Maric." Eyes clenched, he let the statement simmer before prying open one eye to see Aedan's reaction.

However, the young man had been busy trying to get his dog under control. Gregory scampered about and Aedan scrambled to halt Gregory. "Gregory, for the love of- just stay still. Or no treats tonight." Aedan raised a finger at the dog. Gregory plopped down on his hind legs and whined, but Aedan ignored him and turned back to Alistair. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"My father is King Maric."

Aedan blinked, his ear leaning forward slightly. The confession took awhile to process in his head. Alistair feared the worst and cringed.

A chuckle rose from Aedan. Then another. "Wait...you're THE bastard?" The man shook his head, muttering with a smile, "Son of a bitch."

Scratching his head in confusion, Alistair muttered, "I've certainly never gotten that reaction before. Is there something on my nose? Or is the lack of credibility to my story?" The templar scratched the tip of his nose just to check.

Aedan walked over and patted Alistair on the shoulder. "My friend, it seems the world is a very small place, isn't it?"

"What?" Alistair head drooped to the side in confusion.

"Nothing, nothing. Anyways, I'm guessing Duncan and Loghain both knew about this."

"Yes, it may have been the reason that he sent you and I to light the tower...to keep me safe."

Teeth ground against teeth as Aedan mulled over this info. "Probably why Loghain wants us apprehended so badly; not only do we know the truth about Ostagar, but you're the one legitimate threat to Anora's claim to the throne."

"Yes, well, don't be trying to put me on the throne quite so soon. I am still a bastard."

"Royal bastard though. Has a sort of ring to it."

"Huh. Never thought of it that way." Alistair stared down Aedan again. "Is that what you were laughing about?"

A distant expression fell across Aedan's face. He stared towards the clouds, and perhaps beyond. Turning back, he gave Alistair a knowing smile.

"Just a story from the past. It's a long one, I'll tell it to you eventually. It's only slightly relevant."

Sweat dripped down the templar's forehead despite the cool wind. Even still, the templar tugged on his own ear, nervous as could be. Aedan could tell it had taken a lot for Alistair to speak up and share this. "Relax, buddy. I'm not going to start bowing down to you and kissing your ass to get in your good graces."

"Really, you're okay with this- this I'm sort of royalty thing? You're not going to treat me differently?"

Perhaps, I should tell him, thought Aedan, that I used to rub shoulders with royalty. That I used to be a noble. Maybe that would put him at ease, that he was among brethren.

His fingers kneaded at the flaps of his leather armor while he rolled his tongue inside his mouth. Aedan opened his mouth, paused, then said, "The way I see it, if I ever actually ever need you to do something, I just need to find a cheese platter or something. We're both just Wardens now anyhow."

The smile returned to Alistair's face. "You know me too well."

Aedan slapped the templar on his back and gave him a low chuckle.

* * *

Walking through the village reminded him of Lothering: the heavy veil of fear weighing down on the villagers whilst they went about their daily business, going through the stilted motions. In the center of town, the local militia had begun setting up for something- broken barricades surrounded the chantry and other houses. There had been mentions of undead roaming the area. A few months ago, Aedan would have dismissed something like that as not real. After all he had seen now, undead seemed like the least of his worries.

Over by the docks, several bodies lay motionless in wooden boats. Several remained unfinished. Aedan noted that multiple bodies could have fit into one boat, however, each individual held only one body.

A man with empty looking eyes stood over the dead, dirt splotched across his face. Flickering in his hand, the flame of the torch seemed the only light in a rather bleak atmosphere. One by one, he lit the bodies without flinching. The boats bobbed in the water as the torchbearer pushed them in and down the river. The man looked down at the dried blood caking his feet.

His group entered through the chantry doors. As the doors creaked open, the hushed whispers filled their ears. Desperate eyes gazed upon them as the group marched down the center. One child ran up to meet the strangers, but his mother grabbed him and pulled him back to the side. Others simply ignored the group, too busy with prayer or tending to the sick.

What do I look like to them? wondered Aedan. He peered down at his mercenary boots, which clanked against the ground. It clashed with his templar gloves and shoulders, and the standard army chest and leggings. Even to Aedan, it was strange mix: he resembled a trash pile, not a Grey Warden.

Then again, they can't think of me any stranger than Morrigan. Aedan peered over at her, and briefly caught her gaze. Avoiding eye contact, he pretended to be looking around the chantry. A knowing smile fell across the witch's face. Aedan grumbled at that familiar sight. The witch was having her way again.

A sturdier man approached him from a group of Chantry sisters. The clothing of a noble, yet dirtied with blood and soil, seemed unfitting for him. Yet Aedan knew who he was: Bann Teagan, the brother of Arl Eamon.

"Are you the Grey Wardens that people have been talking about?" the red-haired man breathed. Aedan noted a certain weariness in his voice. Teagan glanced sideways and spotted Aedan's fellow warden. "Is that-" Teagan's face lit with joy as he clasped Alistair in a hug. "You made it out of Ostagar, thank the Maker! I had hoped, but nobody could confirm it!"

Alistair chuckled and returned the hug. "Aedan, this is my uncle, Bann Teagan."

"So, you two are the Grey Wardens they've been talking about."

"I'm sorry, did you say 'the Grey Wardens the people have been talking about'?" inquired Leliana.

"They say you cleared the entire mage tower of demons- saved both the mages and templars from utter destruction. You...you can help us right?" He clasped Alistair by the arms and faced towards Aedan, his voice trembling. Both wardens paused and looked at one another. With a sudden realization of how he appeared, Bann Teagan released Alistair and bowed in apology.

"I'm sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself. I am Bann Teagan, brother to Arl Eamon."

As Aedan shook the man's hand, he decided not to tell Teagan he recognized him from the Landsmeet. Always following behind his brother, Eamon, helping to maintain order throughout the meetings. Although he had never spoken to the man, he had always viewed him as a kindred spirit: the younger brother, destined to always hold second-best to his older brother.

"Nice to meet you, Teagan." Aedan hoped the man wouldn't recognize him- the last thing he wanted to do was talk about his family. Yet a glint of recognition sparked in Teagan's eyes. He looked at Aedan and did a slight turn of his head, pondering the former noble's face.

"I'm sorry, but you seem so familiar." Teagan scratched his own chin. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

Instinct caused Aedan to pause for a split second before answering, "I'm nobody. Just a Grey Warden. Just call me by my title." To this statement, Sten gave a unnoticed nod of approval.

"Then, Warden, I need to ask you for your help. You're the only one that can save this village. I've been trying to do it all on my own, but I am no military man."

"I've heard the rumors. Undead." Aedan grimaced. Now, alongside demons and darkspawn, they had to deal with undead. Lovely.

"Then, you've come to help the village?"

"In truth, we had been hoping the rumors were just that…"

With Arl Eamon sick, an undead infestation complicated the situation. Time was of the essence. They had to get inside the castle as quickly as possible. Perhaps the best way to do that would be the simplest: charge in immediately- but that would leave the villagers at the undead's mercy. Aedan glanced over at the frightened families gathered in the chantry. His fist tightened. "It may not be why we're here, but we'll help you nevertheless."

Eamon smiled and breathed out in relief. "Thank the Maker. Knowing we have two Grey Wardens on our side gives me hope we'll see tomorrow. Murdock, the mayor of Redcliffe, is leading the militia- or what's left of it anyways. He'll direct you to where you'll be needed most. I shall stay here and help the wounded for now."

Once the Bann had wandered off, Morrigan swung around at Aedan with a scowl. "Is this really the time to be saving villages? Are we not here for this Eamon you speak of?"

"If we clear the undead, it'll be far easier for us to get into the castle."

"T'would be quite easy if I were to simply burn a path through." The casual way she spoke was as though she spoke of animals or livestock. "Or even better, we leave the villagers and use them as ba-"

Like a whirlwind, Aedan whipped around to face Morrigan. That determined stare on his eyes shot right through her. Her fingers trembled for a bit. Morrigan held back her final words.

"We are not leaving them. Understood?" Aedan turned to the rest. Nobody in the group spoke- nothing needed to be said.

Out in front of the chantry, the rest of the group interacted with the villagers, divvying up their talents to where they were needed most. Alistair walked over to Aedan and stood alongside him, staring out at the townsquare.

"So...we're staying to fight?" asked the templar.

"Don't tell me you're disagreeing now too."

"No, no, I'm actually sort of glad you said you'd stay. It's just…" Alistair tugged at his collar while looking at the now staring villagers, looking at them with hope in their eyes.

"Lot of pressure," remarked Aedan.

"Yeah. Lot of pressure."

"Can't be worse than an Archdemon."

"Maker, I'd almost forgotten about that shit."

* * *

While the other had found rather constructive uses of their time, Morrigan had not yet found something to help with. Or rather, she had not yet found anybody she wanted to help- not that she had been looking particularly hard anyways. She could not stand the constant prayers of the Chantry, in which Leliana and Wynne tended to the wounded. Morrigan's talents would have been best utilized there, but she refused to stay in that accursed building longer than she needed to. Sten and Alistair had gone to work helping the militia and building barricades, while Zevran helped to maintain the weapons. Meanwhile the dog scampered around the village occupying the children's attention- of all the jobs she could do, Morrigan reviled that one the most.

Aedan had gone to peruse the village storehouse for potential supplies awhile back, so Morrigan as well walked up the hill to the abandoned houses. To her delight, she opened the storehouse door to see a rather humorous scene: Aedan struggled to reach his back armor straps. The man turned in place, like a dog chasing his own tail. Once Aedan noticed her, he grumbled at his predicament and avoided eye contact. Morrigan covered her mouth and stifled a laugh.

"You mind?" Aedan twisted his head around and beckoned to his armor straps. Looking around in the village, Aedan had found some old knight's armor in the storehouse. It fit better than the makeshift mixture he had been wearing earlier. Strapping on the armor had irked him to no end, as the straps and buckles were just out of grasp. However, as he had just discovered, taking it off was even more of a hassle.

The witch slapped his hand away from the straps. "I'll do it."

While she undid the straps, Aedan mumbled under his breath, "Sorry...if I was a bit too harsh earlier."

"Then you shall have to repay me for that later."

Silence again. After she had finished the first strap, Morrigan asked, "Why are you fighting for them?" Her voice held no contempt or scorn, but instead curiosity.

This time, Aedan responded in a softer tone. "It can't be that foreign a concept to you? Concern for your fellow people?"

Morrigan finished off the first strap and moved onto the next. "In the Wilds, the weak die. The strong live. That is the natural way of things. Those without power fall to the natural order of things. That is what my mother and the wilds taught me."

"Why are you helping us then, Morrigan?"

"If my mother fears the Blight, then I would be a fool not to fear it as well. Defeating the archdemon will allow me to go about in peace."

With one last tug, Aedan's chest plate fell to the ground. The man sighed in relief. Damn armor doesn't breath very well, he thought.

"But this- this isn't even the Blight. This isn't your job. You're a Grey Warden, not a slayer of undead."

"Not too long ago, I wasn't the slayer of anything." Aedan held the chest plate in his hand. His warped reflection stared back at him. "'Warden' is my duty, not my ideals. Your mother taught you things. So did mine- protect those who cannot protect themselves."

"Tis no point." The witch crossed her arms and gazed out the window at the villagers. They scampered about in panic. "Like ants," she whispered.

Aedan leaned against the window beside her. "You don't look like at the families down there and wonder how it'd feel to be in their shoes? Helpless?"

"No. Tis useless conjecture. There's no reason to concern myself with their lives, just as they have no reason to concern themselves with mine."

Aedan eyed the woman next to him and grimaced. He didn't agree with what she was saying, but he could understand how she developed that line of thinking- a life alone in the Wilds, with no other people around save her mother. Those she did encounter viewed her with disgust as either a swamp witch or apostate. Who had ever given her a good reason to care about others?

Aedan took a deep sigh out. "I guess at the end of the day, I just do what agrees with my insides."

"In that case, Alistair's cooking is morally reprehensible?"

"Hadn't thought of it that way, but certainly. I wouldn't even feed that to my worst enemy."

Sitting there and sharing a laugh with Aedan, Morrigan glanced out the window. The sun was still up, though perhaps a few hours from setting. The crate she sat on creaked as she leaned backwards. "You know, Aedan, now might be a good time to pay me back for that...harshness earlier." She pursed her lips together and gave him a sultry look.

"...I think not. We have things to do." With his hands raised before him, Aedan did a nervous little laugh. Morrigan sighed and pulled him forward by his shirt.

"Come now, no doubt you've had your fair share of women, so I know you are not simply a inexperienced manchild."

"You know this? You have some sort of magic witch's orb or something?"

"Tis a woman's intuition." Staring right at him, Morrigan would not relent until Aedan answered. Those eyes of hers- those piercing, yellowish eyes, were slightly furrowed. The edge of her mouth curled into a scowl.

Aedan clicked his teeth together, formulating his answer. He flicked Morrigan's fingers off of his shirt. "How do I put it- you're...different. I travel with you. We fight together. Do you get what I'm saying?" It was hard, not being nervous around Morrigan. Either completely avoiding the point, or diving in headfirst.

Morrigan narrowed her eyes and tilted her head sideways. "Is this some sort of noble society thing, to make a woman wait? Some sort of ritualistic courting thing?"

"What? No, don't be ridiculous."

"I don't think I'm the one being ridiculous here." Morrigan tugged again on Aedan's shirt. Aedan slapped her hand away from his shirt, causing her to pout again. She brushed aside a stray lock of her hair and crossed her legs. Morrigan's face turned away, as though to simulate anger, though she glanced over every few seconds.

"It's common sense," Aedan lectured, "Don't get involved where you work. You have to separate emotions and your work. Especially for what we're doing- we could get killed."

Morrigan snorted. Aedan raised an eyebrow at her reaction. She peered at him with her chin resting on her palm and a exasperated look in her eyes. "Is that what you're worried about, Warden? That you'll fall head over heels for me and be reduced to a blubbering fool?" She covered her mouth and breathed a condescending laugh. Smiling, she got up and drew near.

"I do not desire such trivial things as love. Tis only a story told to naive children. Frivolous tales sung by people like Leliana." Her words had a decisive feel to them, as though she spoke of fact and not opinion. Was she looking down on him like the others? Or just trying to teach him? Aedan could never tell.

Despite Morrigan approaching once again, Aedan remained still. "Then what exactly is it that you desire, Morrigan?"

"Is it so hard to tell? A man-"

Biting her lip ever so gently, Morrigan traced her finger down his shirt. This time Aedan didn't slap it away.

"-and a woma-"

"Warden, there you are-"

At the sound of Zevran's voice and the opening of the storehouse door, Aedan stumbled backwards and zipped towards his armor. Zevran gave a snake-like smile at the scene before him. He rarely got to see the warden so flustered. "My, my, warden, truly the wicked never rest." He cackled at his joke and twirled the dagger in his hands. "I was wondered that the undead had attacked you, but it appears you're wrangling much bigger game."

"Can it." Aedan bolted from the hut and towards the militia gathering.

As she passed by, Morrigan tossed Zevran a death stare. The assassin's smile grew. She growled back in anger, like a wolf deprived of its prey.

Having made his hasty exit, Aedan found the rest of the militia, along with Sten and Alistair, waiting.

"So, here's the layout of the village." Alistair handed Aedan a ragged map covered in food stains. No doubt mayor Murdock had left it buried beneath his belongings on his desk before this entire debaucle. Now, however, that same Mayor stood decked in armor and weapons. He and the rest of the village stood scattered around the table.

Aedan unfurled the map and pinned it down. His fingers traced the paths between buildings, and he silently mouthed strategies. In truth, Aedan wasn't able to fully concentrate on it; he was as nervous as the other men, but part of keeping their hopes up was making it seem like he had some idea what he was doing. He remembered how Loghain had looked that day at Ostagar, laying out the plans at the war summit. Did Loghain feel this way too? The same fear and anxiety? Aedan grimaced.

"Based on your reports, the undead mainly rise from the waters and the castle. We need to set up choke points here and here." As he made his observations, Aedan directed the militia's attentions to the areas on the map. "You mentioned they seemed to be able to sense where people where at. Most likely they'll gather towards the church, where we'll need to have the heaviest forces."

"Shouldn't we be drawing the the undead away from the chantry- separate squads to lure the undead from where they spawn?" asked Murdock.

"No, we have little enough manpower as it is. We need to consolidate our strength into one area where we can hope to overpower them."

"What if there's fewer this time? Maybe we'll all make it through the night-"

Aedan slapped his hands down on the table. They thudded softly; not enough to scare the men, but enough to startle them. "And what? Just rush in and get ourselves killed? I won't bet the lives of this village on what ifs or maybes. We need a plan."

* * *

_Dust lingered in the air. Antique gold and ancient wood filled the shelves of the warehouse. Aedan marveled at some of the pieces stored in here: even his family didn't have such wonders._

_Getting inside without D, as Aedan had learned, would have been impossible. Several armed guards had surrounded the area, and a layer of several locked doors with different keys closed off the entrance. This made it even more impressive that Teharel was somehow able to break in and store his belongings here._

_"Impressive, is it not?" Aedan turned to see a glint of a smile beneath D's hood. It was a rare showing of pride from the elusive man._

_"All made on illegal activities." Kylon trailed right behind D, his eyes square on the man's hands._

_With a wave of his hand, the crime lord scoffed. "I care not for your petty laws. A man will make and spend his living however he so pleases."_

_Kylon's scowl echoed through the rather large basement. "What is it they call you? The dealer of death. Is that why they call you D?"_

_"While I do rather like that nickname, D comes from something else." The expression on the man's face sent a shiver down Aedan's spine; some sinister mixture of a grin and distant eyes. "Pray to your Maker that you don't ever find out."_

_Throwing his hands up in defeat, Kylon relented from his badgering. Even he knew when to stop pushing the law._

_"What's the point then, in having all these fine goods if nobody else can see them? They just collect dust." Fergus traced his finger along a porcelain statue. The dust coated his finger, and he wiped it off against the wall gingerly._

_"Because I can. Is there no reason not to do as I please?"_

_With a more curious tone, Kylon asked, "Is that why you're helping us? Because it pleases you?"_

_"If you're trying to analyze me, go right ahead. I'm a simple man, just like any other. If it agrees with my insides, then I do it," he laughed. "I guess the more romantic prose writers would say something like 'Follow your heart'. But the heart's just a muscle, pumping blood through your system. I've stabbed several men there, and I certainly wasn't aiming for their compassion."_

_D picked up the piece that Fergus had been looking at and tossed it about in his hand. With a sinister glance at Fergus, D threw the statue to the ground. It shattered, and its pieces slid across the floor of the warehouse. Fergus's face froze up in shock._

_"Every man lives by a code, whether he wants to admit it or not. while mine is certainly more flexible than most, helping Teharel falls under what one might call my conscience."_

_Aedan had to wonder what went on in that man's head._

* * *

_"We need a plan, Aedan." Fergus had grown tired of the silence between him and his brother. The younger Cousland had been mulled over in thought in a corner of the warehouse, whilst Kylon and D searched for the documents._

_"I know."_

_Exasperated, Fergus turned to his brother. "Well?"_

_Aedan stayed silent._

_Fergus rubbed his eye in frustration. "Brother, you're going to get yourself killed."_

_"What the hell am I supposed to do? D is right. I can't beat Adair," he seethed under his breath._

_His fist slammed against the wall. Delicate artifacts shook on their shelves. His heart tightened as he imagined Adair's sword running through it. In the heat of the moment, it was so easy to to jump in and be brave. Now that he had time to rationalize, Aedan doubted his earlier bravado. Adair had properly trounced him. Only the timely arrival of the guards had kept him from being killed._

_"I'm not a damn warrior; I'm just a kid playing with his sword. I've played at war, never fought in it." His back thudded against the wall. Aedan slid down into a seated position, staring out into the vastness of the warehouse. "Maker, I'm so stupid. Why the hell did I tell Hijaya I could do this; I can't do this."_

_For awhile, Aedan sat there, silent. Fergus stood above, watching Aedan's concerned face. He too, sat down against the wall right next to his little brother. Waiting till he collected his thoughts, Fergus nudged his brother, and spoke:_

_"Do you remember when Oren was born?"_

_The memory of his little nephew brought a smile to Aedan's face. He hadn't seen him in awhile. "Yeah, that little bundle of trouble," laughed Aedan, wiping away his tears. "I've had to clean up so many of that little monster's messes."_

_"I never told anybody else, but Oriana and I had been trying for...quite some time to have a child. We were thinking that one of us might have been infertile. Everytime Mother and Father joked about us not having kids yet- we had to smile and lie."_

_Aedan faced his brother. "Fergus-"_

_"It's okay. You didn't know. You couldn't have done anything." Fergus looked up. The sound of the rain had stopped._

_"But there never came a point that I stopped believing that it would happen."_

_"Never?" asked Aedan._

_"I doubted myself sometimes, yes, but deep down, I always kept in mind that image of our family: Oriana holding a baby in her arms, everyone cooing around it, you getting jealous over the lack of atten-" Fergus keeled over from Aedan's fierce elbow to the gut._

_"I did not." Aedan's face burned. He didn't like to be reminded of that time of his life._

_"You most certainly did," chuckled his brother. A slight blush on his cheeks, Aedan grumbled. Fergus draped his arm around his brother's shoulder, and pointed his other hand forward. "That hope kept me- both of us- going. And every day since Oren was born, I'm glad I never lost hope._

_"When you lose hope, you've already lost. Despite how painful it may be, Aedan, you have to picture tomorrow- your tomorrow, the one where Teharel lives."_

_Tomorrow, thought Aedan. He closed his eyes. All he could see was the dark of his eyelids. In his mind's eye, all he could see was the image of Adair crushing Teharel's leg. The sickening crunch of bones._

_Fergus could feel his brother shiver underneath his arm. Smiling, he ruffled his brother's messy hair. "Brother, you'll make it through this. Both you and Teharel. I promise." In the distance, Fergus noticed something in the direction of his outstretched hand, glimmering in the warehouse. A thought shot through his mind._

_Those reassuring words eased a bit of Aedan's pain. Still, a shroud of doubt and unease still blanketed his heart. "I can't see it, Fergus. I just can't," Aedan sighed._

_Fergus almost didn't hear those words of Aedan. They were quiet, yes, but the thoughts running through his mind overpowered everything else. Fergus gave Aedan a wild grin. "In that case, leave it to your big brother. I have a plan."_


	24. Undead

"We set up the burning oil at chokepoints here, here, and here. Meanwhile, we consolidate almost all the barricades in front of the chantry, with three openings in order to create chokepoints. If we simply wall ourselves in, then the undead claw at the barricades and break in down in a matter of minutes- so we have to leave some openings. When they see the opening, they'll concentrate their efforts on the prey in front of their eyes. Thus, they'll all rush through the same places, allowing us to better concentrate and coordinate our efforts. The barricade will hold longer as well."

It took awhile, but Aedan managed to drill the plan into the villager's heads. Their apprehensive frowns had all but dissipated, but Aedan didn't blame their first instinct of wanting to wall away the undead and shoot at them with arrows.

While the rest of the men continued training with Zevran and Sten, Aedan decided to visit the Chantry. As sun waned, even more families had piled inside into the building. Aedan squeezed passed the families to where a line of wounded congregated, for no doubt he'd find who he sought there.

"Wynne, how are they doing?" Aedan asked as he strode up to the elder mage. The most heavily wounded lay around her stretchers. Some had their limbs amputated. Looking at one man's amputated leg made Aedan's stomach queasy as a particular memory came to mind.

Wynne turned away from the wounded to answer him. "They will live. Those who survived were in bad shape, but I managed to fix them up as best I could."

Aedan smiled at the news. One day he'd have to tell Wynne how grateful he was for her, and every other mage's, healing magic. Today, however, he had something else on his mind. "I wanted your opinion on something else." Aedan glanced around to see if anyone was listening in.

Wynne nodded; she had been expecting this conversation. "The undead." She finished her bandaging of one man and beckoned Aedan over to a quieter corner of the Chantry. Frightening the innocents with such talk of magic would do no good here. Wynne could tell Aedan had thought the same thing when looking for eavesdroppers; two mages and an unexplained undead problem were bound to be linked together by the uninformed.

Wynne eased herself into a nearby seat. She rested her head against the back of the chair, catching her breath- she'd been using her healing magic nonstop all day. "Typically, undead occurs when a demon attempts to possess a dead body. It certainly not as powerful as the abominations that we faced in terms of magical ability. In terms of strength however, it is comparable."

"How would one cause this?"

"Most likely it is the machinations of a demon who has gotten a foothold in this area."

"Could a mage have summoned them?"

Wynne's face scrunched up at the question. "What makes you say that?"

"Sorry, sorry, I'm not trying to be intolerant or anything, it's just the timing is weird."

"Weird?"

"I'll explain. We found an elf in the bar, hired by Loghain to watch the Arl's condition- but it was before he got sick. It took awhile to coax the information out of him, but he produced a letter with Loghain's seal."

"Are you saying that Loghain poisoned the Arl?"

"Knowing what we know about his true character, it isn't a far off conclusion. More importantly, something the elf said was off. After Arl Eamon fell ill, the undead arrived a few weeks later. It can't just be a coincidence."

"It isn't possible for Loghain to have summoned undead, if that's what you're thinking." Wynne's eyes narrowed in thought "...unless he had some apostate do it."

"He wouldn't do that. It doesn't make sense. Why would Loghain poison the Arl, and not kill him?"

"What do you mean?"

"A man like Loghain, and with his contacts, knows their poisons. If he had wanted, the Arl could have been dead the minute he ate whatever the assassin slipped the poison into. In fact, a heart attack sounds far more likely than a prolonged sudden illness- but it took weeks...we had time to go to the Mage Tower and Denerim, and Arl Eamon still didn't die. Even know, he's inside the castle with a good possibility of being alive."

"Perhaps...Loghain never intended to kill the Arl. He simply needed to get him out of the way for the time being."

It made sense. The king's army and the Grey Warden's had to die, in order to cover up his betrayal. Arl Eamon, however, was a different case. Although Aedan had never seen the two quite agree at the landsmeet, they had always respected each other and their decisions. Loghain just needed Eamon out the way, not dead.

The more Aedan tried to understand Loghain, the more conflicted he felt. From a logical standpoint, the man's decisions made sense. Yet their execution was brutal and immoral.

But summoning undead didn't fit Loghain's standards. He was a man of swords and grit, not magic and occult. It was connected, but whatever was behind the undead wasn't Loghain.

"If Loghain isn't the cause, perhaps whoever is behind this is in the castle," mused Aedan. He looked over at the wounded who still needed help. Perhaps his thoughts could wait. "Nevertheless, I should be worrying about the current situation first." He and Wynne walked back towards the temporary infirmary.

Kneeling over one delirious man, Wynne sighed and dabbed his forehead with a cool cloth. "I pray to the Maker that everyone will be able to make it through tonight." Smiling, Wynne handed Aedan a roll of bandages. "But somehow I think you'll be enough."

* * *

"Would you like to say something to the militia? They could really use a pep talk from an honest to Maker Grey Warden." Murdock's request was a bit gruff; it took much humility for the Mayor and leader of the militia to ask someone else to lead his men. He had looked away a bit when he asked, and Aedan could have sworn he heard the man grumble, yet Murdock had still came and asked.

A small platform stood near the front of the Chantry, typically for sermons or the Chanters. Aedan silently acknowledged Murdock's request and strode towards the platform.

"Men! The Warden has something to say!" cried out the mayor.

As the wooden steps creaked beneath his weight as he walked onto the platform, Aedan pondered: Why, all of a sudden, did his words have more weight? A little over two and a half months ago he had departed on this journey. He had gathered no fame, no riches, and no grand army- and yet here he was. The Warden. No origin to speak of, no prior battles attributed to his name save for the Circle Tower. Perhaps the name itself was more important than the actual person.

The sounds of Flemeth's laughter echoed in his ears as he remembered her joke about his faux title. If the Hero of River Dane had come onto this platform, would the people be cheering as well? Or their youthful King Cailan?

He tried to think back as he stood amongst the army at Ostagar. How he felt hearing Cailan's speech on glory and remembrance.

_Glory or remembrance. That's not what these men want. That's not what any of us at Ostagar wanted. These men just want to live another day with their families._

"Men," started Aedan as he stood atop the platform. His words left him. His tongue went dry. Trying to keep his composure, Aedan took a deep breath.

"You've seen a lot these past few days. You've been through more than you should have. And I know, there's this gnawing feeling inside of you, telling you that you can't do this. You've lost people." A little quieter, Aedan muttered, "We've all lost people."

Clenching his fist, Aedan held it in front of him. He squeezed so hard it trembled.

"But we cannot let despair dull our senses, soften our blows, or temper our spirit!" Putting his feelings into words was difficult, and yet somehow the words flowed out. Aedan recalled the passion with which Cailan had spoken; however misplaced, it still came from the heart.

"What are these undead? They're not even human, they're demonic! Legends and rumor say that's what makes them so powerful, but they're wrong my friends. They are flesh and bone just like us- but what drives them? Nothing but primal instinct and the urge to kill.

"It's because we feel, because we are human, that we can fight for more than just ourselves and our survival. Behind our blades is not the simple strength of our muscles, but the strength of our will. Of our spirit! Of our hope!"

His finger thrust towards the chantry. Their eyes followed, looking over at the barricaded door.

"Every time you swing your blade at these monsters, remember that tonight, we fight not only for us, but for their tomorrow."

The words simmered. The men looked at him with a sort of admiration and understanding. They gripped their weapons tight, hanging on his words. At the very least, Aedan had stirred something in their hearts- a spark to light a flame.

"Do not lose hope, my friends, because that is what sets apart the living and the dead. That is why we will win tonight, no matter what. They have nothing to lose when they fight. We have everything, so defend it."

_While you still can._

The last remnants of sunlight lingered in the form of subtle shadows. The men shuffled off into their positions. They lit the torches, one by one, illuminating the village.

Aedan's group gathered by the windmill, blocking off the first entrance way. The main barricade would hold for awhile, giving Aedan and the knights the opportunity to thin any potential flankers. Sword drawn, Aedan stood by the hill. He leaned on his sword, watching the sun's descent.

* * *

In the midst of battle, a strange thought occurred to Aedan.

Why do the undead wield weapons? Do they perhaps retain a bit of their humanity?

Thoughts like these were thrown away as Aedan charged as decrepit hands clawed at him. He couldn't afford to view these skeletons as anything human. Hesitation would get the villagers killed.

He smashed an undead's head underneath his boot. A flinch of pain in his leg caused him to look down. There, the creature still clawed at his leg, despite its wounds. Aedan slammed his sword down into the ground again and again, shattering the bones of the creature. As he battered it with blows, parts of it sunk into the the dirt.

"A rather impromptu burial," said Sten, before smashing aside two undead. What Sten lacked in grace, he made up for in pure, bone-crushing strength.

"So you do know how to make jokes." Aedan forced a chuckle. Any other time he'd badger the qunari some more, but in the midst of battle, his mind needed to be clear and focused. To his right, he noticed some men parrying for far too long with the undead.

"Men, throw the creatures back into the fire! We can't afford to waste our time fighting them one by one!"

With that, Aedan motioned to Sten. The man charged forward with his greatsword, catching the undead on the large surface like flies. He stopped before the raging fire, then swung the undead into the roaring flames. Their writhing hands reached towards the sky, before burning to ashes. Confident of the upper path's position, Aedan headed to the Chantry to help the rest of the men.

Right in front of the Chantry, the undead amassed. The men stood trembling at the entrance to the barricades. "Switch positions with me!" yelled Aedan as he sprinted down the hill. A rather nervous looking man nodded and scampered to the sidelines, leaving the entrance to the barricades open. A look of horror spread across the militia's faces at the exposed opening.

Aedan whistled at the apostate witch, who was busy setting skeletons on fire. "Morrigan!"

"I know!" screamed the witch. She slammed her staff into the ground. Wind rushed against the undead and tossed them backwards. That opening bought Aedan enough time to roll into position. His shield slammed against another approaching skeleton as he finally reached the barricade. Stalwart, he raised his sword and pointed to the prone horde. "Fire the arrows!"

Whilst Aedan had positioned the ground troops below, he assigned Leliana and other members of the militia to stay atop the roof. Almost like the playing of the violin, the sound of bow strings echoed through the night, followed by a barrage of arrows. Some arrows flew too far. Others missed their target's entirely. However, enough skeletons were lit aflame by the burning arrows to thin them out to a manageable number.

A burst of three arrows hit the three skeletons in front of Aedan. The flame spread from square in their forehead. Smiling, Aedan turned back and gave a nod to Leliana: it wasn't hard to tell her handiwork. The rogue gave a silent nod back and continued to draw more arrows.

The sound of wood breaking echoed through the night. The men went silent.

The barricades had been broken.

Aedan's glance darted from man to man. Their bodies trembled with panic, and the skeletons still approached.

"Oi!" shouted Aedan. He clanged his sword against his shield. In a eerie fashion, most of the skeletons turned to the clanging noise, drawn to it like a beacon.

"Come and get me!" he bellowed from the bottom of his chest. Their legs clattered as the horde rushed towards him. Aedan's eyes closed. As he took a deep breath in, the cold dry air stung his nostrils. Clearing his mind, he listened to the sounds of the battle: the footsteps of the dead, the panting of the militia, and the clashing of swords. He remembered the feeling when he had been fighting the ogre, and then again with Uldred. That desperation. That strength.

His eyes shot open. A familiar sensation came over him- his blood boiled within his veins. He lunged at the skeletons head first. With his shield he smacked them backwards, giving him breathing room. His hand gripped his sword in a vice.

With inhuman strength, the sword smashed through the undead in a vicious arc.

You want to take these men? These women? These children?

With all his might, he swung again, and again, and again. The sword reverberated in his hand with each downing of an undead.

Not a chance.

More and more skeletons rushed him. With even more fervor they slashed at him, egged on by Aedan's own fury. A primal roar erupted from deep within him. With everything he had, he kept trying to push the undead back. Slowly but surely, however, Aedan's feet slide backwards.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the men coming from the skeleton's side and flanking some of them. Alistair led the charge, picking off the skeletons the skeletons attracted by Aedan's display. With the skeletons concentrating on Aedan, the villagers didn't need to fear their blows.

One by one, whether by Aedan's sword or the militia, the last undead fell. The men looked around: no more seemed to be approaching. The sun's golden rays then peeked over the horizon. The battleground illuminated. Although shattered bones and broken bodies lay about, none of them were of the living.

Barely holding back his tears, Murdock shouted, "We're...we're alive! We did it men!"

The clamor of the militia intensified. Soon it became a deafening roar of triumph. Men bellowed from their hearts with joy and relief. Some were even crying. The chantry doors creaked open as those inside peeked out at the commotion.

Amongst all the chaos, Aedan tried to raise his fist and shout alongside them. All that came out was a slight groaning. His voice, hoarse from barking orders, couldn't be heard. He chuckled sheepishly as the men came to bury him in handshakes and hugs, despite being covered in sweat and blood.

* * *

"Not a single man dead."

Aedan sat behind the Chantry. He nibbled on a loaf of bread one of the Sisters had given him. His stomach still felt queasy. Despite the joy of the villagers, only one night had been won. Perhaps that was why they celebrated so hard: this might be their only triumphant night. Perhaps they wanted to engrave that joy into their memories; store it away for the next battle.

Taking a place next to him, Alistair slouched against the wall. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"What?"

"There you were in the midst of battle, coordinating all those men into safer positions, while you took the more dangerous ones."

Aedan continued to look at his bread, talking in between bites. "Only makes senses. If chokepoints fall, then the entire unit is at risk."

"It wasn't just that. How do I put it...it felt like you were watching over all the men at the same I wish I was more like you. More assertive, more of a leader.

"You know, when I used to live with the Arl, Lady Isolde would always push me around. Treat me like some second rate child. Coming back here, so close to the castle I grew up in..."

The templar shrugged and gave heavy sigh. "I don't know. It stirs up some of those feelings. Sometimes I feel like I can't do this job."

Glancing from his food, Aedan noticed a familiar expression. A expression of a man who had always been a junior or the second best. Despite having a place, he never knew whether or not he quite fit in. Downset eyes and a sad, uncertain smile. Of all people, Aedan knew what it was like to play second-best for a brother.

Aedan draped his arm over Alistair's shoulder and spoke. "Alistair. Don't worry about whether or not people listen to you, or whether or not you're right for this job. I know this: you were right there alongside me, protecting those men, as my fellow Warden. Maybe you're not assertive or not as much as a leader, but that doesn't make you any less of a person, Alistair. You're just you. And there's no other person I'd have watching my back. We're in this fight together, you and I."

Grinning, Aedan took his fist and gave Alistair a friendly tap on the shoulder. His stomach growled and hissed once again; Aedan returned to finishing his meal, but not before silently tossing a bread roll to Alistair. The other warden managed to catch the roll, and stuffed most of it into his mouth. "Thanks," came a muffled voice through the bread.

* * *

_Trailing the group had been easy enough. D, for all his smokes and mirrors, made mistakes as well, the foremost being pride. To think that no one else had intimate information on his organization. To think that he had the best ways through the city. Adair smirked. Pride would be not only D's downfall, but others' as well. Adair's previous hit and run operations on D's supply line had netted him several of D's workers. He found that anybody was willing to talk when persuaded with a jagged enough knife._

_Perched atop a rooftop, Adair watched D and his companions enter into the guarded warehouse. The young noble, Aedan, was among them. Adair noted the two guards outside the entrance. D was not so careless a man that he would assign only two guards- not doubt other security measures lay within. Tripwires, glyphs, traps, and all their ilk._

_Victor shivered as the rain dripped down his soaked hair. "Boss, how much longer are we going to have to wait out in this god forsaken rain?"_

_"We wouldn't have to wait outside if you had just done your job right, Victor."_

_"So I got spotted, big deal."_

_"Big deal. It's because of your incompetence that mess in the Alienage occurred. Now the guard is looking for us, and more importantly, if they recognize who you are-"_

_"Relax, the only people were just your elf friend and some noble kid. They won't know I'm the one who tried to kill the king."_

_"They told me that you were one of the best, and yet here you are, and you can't even do anything right."_

_"The king died anyways, so there's no problem."_

_"Really, what's the point of having someone like you along?"_

_"Hell if I know," muttered Victor. He lay down on the rooftop and rested his head on his hands. "I'm not the one who asked for this." His eyes shut and he let out a long yawn. A threatening growl came from Adair's direction. Sighing, Victor sat back up and continued to watch the scene below._

_"So, what's your plan on getting in? I doubt there's any other secret entrances."_

_"Sometimes, Victor, stealth is the best option." Adair rifled underneath his own cloak for awhile, before pulling out a handful of explosive flasks. The insides sizzled._

_"Now's not that time."_


	25. Resolve

After about ten minutes of Lady Isolde's particularly grating voice, Aedan's temples throbbed so much he wasn't sure if Orlesians weren't raised to have weaponized voices and that, unlike Leliana, Isolde had neglected to refine hers.

Lady Isolde and Bann Teagan bickered outside the windmill. Much to everyone's shock and relief, her entire family, including Arl Eamon, lived. She had scrambled out of the castle after the sun had risen. Now she asked the impossible: for Bann Teagan to go into the castle, alone, without any clue to the dangers within.

Although Aedan had been only a small child, he still remembered the controversy surrounding Eamon and his Orlesian wife. Even more damning was that she had been the daughter of the Orlesian governor of Redcliffe during the occupation. After the occupation, she decided to stay with Eamon out of love.

Whispers among the nobles contained nothing good. "She's only with him because he spared her life" or "She's a dirty Orlesian spy waiting for her brethren to come back."

Indeed, Loghain had never enjoyed the company of Isolde. To be fair, not many did, but Arl Eamon obviously adored her. Despite her husband's affection, such slights from the nobles led Isolde to stay behind in the estate most of the time. Even Aedan could not blame her for such a scornful attitude towards others, when all others always scorned her.

Still, her attitude didn't simplify Aedan's job. The former noble considered his strategy: the arlesse, a devoted family woman and relatively secluded due to scorn, would most likely respond well to a courteous attitude and positive comments directed towards her child, Connor, and her husband. Teagan had already wasted enough time trying to pry information out of this woman. Perhaps under normal circumstances the Bann would have know the right words to say, but weeks of battling undead had dulled his tongue and patience.

The warden approached the pair and bowed slightly to Isolde. "My Lady Isolde, I apologize if we seem to be intruding on your private family matter. I understand you and your family have gone through much; you have every right to suspicious of those from outside." He remembered that expression he put on for other nobles: calm, smiling, and devoid of all ill intent.

Aedan's unfamiliar courtesy threw Isolde off guard. "I...I too apologize for my rather brash introduction," said Isolde, avoiding eye contact. "We have been rather wary of outsiders ever since the incident..."

_There we go, keep talking._

"Is this incident in reference to perhaps the Arl being poisoned?"

"He...he has simply fallen ill. Nothing else!" shouted the Arlesse who took a step back.

_Damn, she seems to have gotten angry. Should trade some information to regain her trust._

"My lady, I may have information that pertains to this. I interrogated an elf who was hired to keep a watch over the Arl's condition...by Loghain. It concerns me greatly if you or your family were to be put at risk by even more of his treachery."

Isolde now turned directly at Aedan. Looking at her face, Aedan saw eyes red from crying.

"I...yes...perhaps we should speak in plainer terms. Thank you for revealing that to me. It clarifies some of a situation that is still beyond my understanding." She stopped wringing her hands, and finally made eye contact with Aedan. Alistair could only stare dumbfounded as Aedan charmed the woman who had spent ten years making his life a living hell.

_'Situation beyond her understanding.' Yet she dares not reveal what lays inside the castle. Why?_

Aedan needed to clarify indirectly. "I, and Alistair here, are both Grey Wardens. We are trained to deal with such occult situations, through force-"

For the split second after he said that word, Isolde's face contorted in fear. Aedan picked up on this, and continued with his planned statement.

"Or peacefully."

Her expression softened.

_Whoever, or whatever, is related to causing this, she doesn't want to be hurt. I doubt she'd have such concern for her maids or soldiers. Therefore, the most probable candidates are Connor or the Arl himself._

Isolde relented and explained what she understood: a mage had come and poisoned the Arl, then summoned the undead. Aedan believed the first part, yet the concern Isolde had shown made him suspicious as to the true perpetrator. How did the Arl or Connor fit in with the undead? Perhap the guilty mage now held them hostage. Whatever the case, Aedan doubted Isolde's further usefulness. She herself stated she did not truly understand the situation.

Aedan crossed his arms and gave her a traditional bow, indicating an offer of his service. The bow hid his frown.

"Warden, an aside." Teagan motioned him over to a shady part of the windmill. Whilst the two departed, Aedan let his eyes wander to Isolde: she trembled a little less, and her breathing had calmed. At least his courtesy did some good.

Once Teagan and Aedan were alone, the Bann spoke. "I will comply with Isolde and go with her alone. I trust Isolde enough not to bring me to get killed, but I know I cannot do this alone. There's a secret entrance in the windmill to the dungeons. I will be the distraction, while you come in and ambush whatever is in there."

_The distraction?_

"You're a brave man," said Aedan, "but be careful. I have a suspicion that whatever is in there, Isolde wants us to deal with it peacefully."

With no hesitation, Bann Teagan turned back to him and uttered, "Just remember. Me, Isolde, everyone else is expendable as long as my brother gets out alive."

Those words struck at Aedan's heart. It reminded him of his parent's final moments, as they sacrificed themselves to save him. Someone who thought of others before themselves. This man, without a doubt, was somebody worth keeping alive in this world.

"I will save everyone. Not just Eamon. I promise." Aedan clenched his sword hilt in his hand. His right arm trembled to stop whatever madness threatened this family. He would not let the chaos of the Blight consume anymore than it had to.

Teagan smiled. "I'll hold you to that."

With that, Teagan and Isolde set off alone for the front entrance of the castle. Eventually they disappeared over the distance into the lone gate. Once the two had entered, Aedan directed the others to the passageway Teagan had shown him. Aedan lead the way forward with a spare torch. The passage was surprisingly large and fit even Sten height-wise; perhaps it had been meant for emergency evacuation. Never did it's makers suspect it'd have to be used for infiltration.

As they navigated through the underground passage, Alistair asked bitterly, "I couldn't even get her to smile for 10 years, how'd you do it?"

"Experience," Aedan replied, "She was harsh on you I'm guessing."

"Harsh doesn't begin. Always berating me and treating me like something less than human. Did I mention she once made me sleep in the kennels?" Sighing, Alistair leaned his head back between his hands. "I guess I can't blame her. There were rumors swirling around that I was the bastard of Eamon himself. No grown woman's going to take that laying down."

Perhaps Alistair was an outlet for all her pent up rage, thought Aedan.

"Still a shit thing to do."

"Yeah, she could have been been less of a Morrigan."

Aedan stopped midstride. "Excuse me?" Depending on Alistair's next choice of words, Aedan would have to duck for his life.

"Ah yes. I've come up with a new ranking system. There's okay, then annoying, then 'infuriating to the point of wanting to rip my hair out', then Morrigan."

"I am so  _pleased_  to see that I am setting new records. Mother would be proud," called Morrigan from the back of the group. Much to Aedan's surprise, she did not take offense to Alistair's disingenuous assertions- perhaps she simply viewed Alistair's opinions as no more than the chirping of birds.

"We've really got the worst luck in women, haven't we buddy?" Alistair guffawed and slapped his friend on the back. Scratching the side of his head sheepishly, Aedan tried not to think about what had transpired between him and Morrigan the day before.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, undead roamed the dungeon. This implied, however, that dead bodies lay in the dungeon prior. Arl Eamon seemed a kind man, and perhaps the dead were before his time. Then again, just like Aedan, every man had enemies. Eamon perhaps had simply jailed and starved his.

With that thought in mind, Aedan spotted one such enemy cowering in a corner. The fact that he lived did not intrigue Aedan, but rather his attire: dirty mage robes. Sweat slicked bangs hid the mage's face. The undead had sent the man into a state of utter panic. Trembling, he crawled out of his corner and gazed upon the group.

"Jowan," gasped Wynne.

Aedan turned to her. "You know him?"

"He escaped the Tower." Her eyes narrowed. Aedan rarely saw Wynne so hateful. "By means of blood magic."

Now everyone directed their attention towards Jowan. Those two simple words reminded them of what had transpired at the Circle Tower. That beleaguered mage now posed the highest threat. Sten placed his hand on his hilt.

"Oi." Aedan banged his knuckles against the rusted steel bars. Jowan lifted his head from his hands. He sighed in relief and rushed up to the door. He had on a sad sort of smile when his eyes met Wynne.

"Hello, Wynne. I didn't expect to see you again," said Jowan.

"Neither did I, Jowan," came Wynne's quiet response.

"Did you ever think that when you were teaching me as a young child, that it would come to this? Me, locked behind a cage like some animal?"

Wynne didn't respond. Her gaze broke from Jowan's.

After that icy silence Aedan knocked against the bars again. "Focus. Did you summon these undead?"

"No, but...I did something terrible." Jowan turned away...in shame? For a blood mage to admit the fault of his actions surprised Aedan. He grabbed at the bars and leaned in closer.

"Explain. I need all the information I can get if I'm to have chance at fixing this."

A tense quiet ensued, until Jowan answered, "I poisoned the Arl."

"Why?"

"On orders from Loghain. I had been in hiding since before the Ostagar incident, so I hadn't learned the full truth behind his betrayal. So when someone like Loghain asks you to do something for the good of the kingdom, and then offers you your life back, how can one just say no to that?"

"And so you'd poison an innocent man?"

"I didn't know! Loghain told me I was saving lives. That it'd redeem me." His eyes welled up. "That I'd see Lily again."

"Did you didn't summon the undead?"

"No! I didn't summon them, I swear!"

"But there's no other mages here that could have done it."

A little softer, Jowan replied. "There's one more."

Aedan took a sharp breath in. The final piece.

"Pardon?"

"Connor, the Arl's son, is a mage. Lady Isolde hired me to train him and keep it a secret from the outside world, lest he be taken by the Circle, like me. When his father took ill, a demon possessed Connor and summoned the undead."

The puzzle pieces crashed together. Why Isolde had wanted a peaceful resolution, and to keep outside warriors from coming in. Why the demon had occurred a few weeks after the Arl's illness, not right after. Aedan grimaced. The lengths a mother would go to to save one's son.

"I'm not an expert on magic, but I'm assuming then that Connor has made some sort of deal with the demon in exchange for his father's well being."

"That seems the most likely explanation. I doubt the demon actually helped the Arl at all, and simply took advantage of the boy's naivety," said Morrigan.

"Despite Jowan's usage of blood magic, I know him well enough to say that he would not summon undead." Wynne's words came as a shock to Jowan. He hung his head in shame for betraying such a woman's trust.

"We need to get to Connor first and subdue him. Then we can decide how to proceed." Aedan turned back to the apostate. "Thank you for the information. Your cooperation helped greatly."

Jowan clasped the iron bars. "What about me?"

Aedan paused. "What about you?" He didn't need to ask that question; everyone knew what the mage wanted. The question was whether or not he was a threat.

"He is a blood mage. We cannot trust him," stated Wynne whilst avoiding eye contact with Jowan.

"So we just leave him in here to die? Then how are we better then him?"

She didn't reply. Wynne's heart was wavering at the sight of her former pupil, despite how far he had fallen. Aedan could tell. Deep down, Aedan didn't really think Wynne wanted Jowan to die.

"I know that I screwed up." Jowan looked towards the floor and clasped the bars with all his might. "I know that. But I want to set things right, please! My happiness has already been taken from me. At the very least-"

"-I can defend someone else's," finished Aedan. Blood mage or not, he had on the same expression as Bann Teagan: earnest and determined.

With one blow and before anyone could object, Aedan broke the rusty lock. Morrigan covered her small smile.

For the first time in weeks, Jowan exited his cell. "I'm going to need to gather some things, but I have an idea how to stop this. I'll meet you at Connor, wherever he is. I owe him that."

Jowan vanished down the hallway. Whilst the sound of the his footsteps carried, Aedan wondered if he had made the right decision. At the very least he had absolved Wynne of her guilt. Aedan, by making the decision, had taken the consequences onto himself. Wynne would not need to feel so conflicted. Out of the corner of his eye Aedan saw her waver between a frown and a smile. The fact that she wasn't completely frowning satisfied him enough.

"That was not a wise decision. Mages, especially blood mages, are dangerous," muttered the qunari, still looking down Jowan's path of exit.

"Sten, he could help us. Sometimes our swords do more harm than good." Aedan kicked at an undead on the floor in thought. The qunari quieted in contemplation.

* * *

_Although not as effective as qunari explosive powder, lyrium-based explosives sufficed enough to break all of D's layers of security._

_One final bomb blasted away the remains of the final reinforced door. The underground warehouse had gone completely dark. Under normal circumstances, Adair would light a fire and illuminate the whole place. His objective in this case might be destroyed as well if he did just that. He'd have to lure out D._

_The grizzled veteran cleared his throat. "You know, D, buying lyrium-based explosives is really expensive."_

_No response. Adair grumbled. At the very least he had hoped to gauge D's position by sound._

_"Stealing them is a lot harder though. Although, I guess I really have to thank you for them, don't I?" he sneered harder._

_A growl from the darkness. Adair almost felt like prey. Almost. He was the hunter here though. D had taken his bait. Adair turned to the noise._

_"Invading my territory with my own weapons. How impudent," echoed D's voice._

_Adair smiled upon hearing his old ally's voice. "I've nothing against you, D. Just hand me the documents, and we can all walk out of this without any trouble. Hell, I'll even stop disrupting your shipments. How about that?"_

_"Interesting. And what would you suggest you give me in exchange for all of my men you've killed? All my supplies you've stolen?"_

_"Your life." Sparks flew as Adair's twin swords scraped against the marble floor. The cloaked figure of D approached Adair from the front._

_"Interesting, interesting. I could have let you walk after blowing up my entrance."_

_The sound of a cloak being unfurled._

_"I could have let you walk after nearly killing Teharel."_

_The sliding of daggers against their holsters._

_"Hell, I could have let you walk after what you did all those years ago."_

_A single breath of utter rage._

_"But the minute you suggest that my life is anybody else's but mine?"_

_A snap of the fingers. Torches were lit. Daggers flew. Swords sliced. The dance of the warriors had begun._

_Watching from above, Aedan could only think that his own fighting so far had been child's play. The scene below far exceeded his sessions with Teharel; these were two masters in their prime. they moved with breaktaking speed, parrying and dodging simultaneously. Sharp, exact blows blurred about. It felt less like a dance, and more like two forces colliding- like a gale against a tidal wave._

_"You've gotten slow, Adair." D's dagger landed straight at the heart, right past the swirling defense of Adair's swords._

_"So quick for the vitals, aren't you?" laughed Adair. The dagger bounced off Adair's breastplate harmlessly._

_"Never hurts to try. Looks like I'll just have to slit your throat instead."_

_Both of Adair's swords smashed down on the shelf D stood behind. The crimelord leg spun in midair and kicked a falling golden statue into Adair's face. For the first time since Aedan had saw him, Adair staggered backwards. He wiped the blood from his lip. With a single glance at the red stain, Adair hurtled at D._

_A flash of metal, followed by the shriek of Adair's sword slicing through the air. D's dagger had been raised. He lifted two fingers._

_Aedan and Fergus nodded at each other. D had given the signal. Atop the shelves, they launched various artifacts and statues down at Adair, forcing him to sidestep even more. The first part of the plan was to attack Adair at an angle from which he could not defend while fighting D. Of course, the statues never did do much damage; Adair's reflexes would kick in and he would either dodge or smash the object away. However, that split second he spent was enough for D to push him backwards and slice at him._

_"You are getting on my nerves, whoever is up there!" Adair whipped his sword against a nearby shelf and it broke in two. As the structure crumpled, Aedan jumped over to where his brother was. A soft thud alerted Adair to where he had landed. He struck again, and this time both Fergus and Aedan had to leap._

_"Is that the best you have? Little distractions?" Whipping his leg around, Adair slammed a golden gryphon statuette back at D, right into his chest. D staggered backwards and caught himself on a shelf._

_An explosion sent Adair flying backwards. The prone D grinned and tossed another flask in hand._

_"Come now, old friend- I am the one you stole those explosives from."_

_"Very well then…" Adair wiped his face of sweat and whistled. "Victor, take care of the one's up top, will you?"_

_The slicing noise of metal rang in Aedan's ears. Adair's associate and attempted assassin of Maric, Victor, had finally climbed up to the upper levels._

_"Brother, to the next one, I'll handle this guy!" Aedan motioned Fergus to the next designated shelf. The young noble stood between his brother and Victor. Victor cracked his neck, his swords brandished. "Looking forward to our rematch, little noble boy. I underestimated you at the Alienage."_

_The shelf wobbled beneath Aedan's feet. The young man staggered backwards. He could see a flash of a smile from his opponent. "What's wrong?" said Victor, "Unused to such unstable conditions?"_

_Victor lept forward, aiming for Aedan's throat. At the last second, Aedan drew his shield and deflected the forceful stab. His sword swung from above, and yet was parried by both of Victor's._

_Aedan charged forward and and pushed Victor back like a battering ram. He needed to keep him away from both Fergus and Kylon._

_A little bit further! thought Aedan. Retreating backwards, Aedan barely avoided Victor's swords from chopping off his head. He hurled himself to the next shelf, whilst Victor followed. It soon became a frantic race of leaping from shelf to shelf._

_"You think you can escape me?" said Victor mid leap._

_If Victor could see Aedan's grin, he would not be as happy. Little by little, as Aedan jumped more and more, he had gained a slight lead- at that instant, Victor was in mid air, whilst Aedan was firmly on the shelf._

_"Sod off." Aedan slammed his shield against Victor's face. The younger assassin throttled down towards the floor and landed belly first on the floor. Struggling to get up, Victor cursed his own overconfidence before losing consciousness._

_Meanwhile down below, D continued pushing Adair back with help from Fergus. He raised his hand to throw his dagger, raising up two fingers. Fergus dropped a golden statue. Adair sidestepped both._

_D raised another dagger, raising up just one finger. Adair dodged the dagger, and jumped to avoid the statue. A small explosion threw him back. Wiping his brow, Adair grimaced at his dilemma, groaning while holding his bleeding side. He couldn't tell which of the statues were to be explosives._

_Much to Adair's surprise, D stepped forward to attack, daggers in hand. This however meant that D had no more explosives to throw. Adair gritted his teeth as he forced his battered body to continue slicing. With a single thrust of both his swords, Adair aimed for D's stomach. The other man turned, narrowly fitting in the gap between the two. Yet still the edges grazed his back and stomach. Blood dripped from D's torso and the crimelord grunted in pain. A quick side-kick pushed Adair far back enough so that his sword were out of range._

_"Time to finish-"_

_All of a sudden, Adair found himself hanging upside down by his feet, tied by rope. Kylon, holding a taut rope that looped into a pulley on the ceiling and now wrapped about Adair's entire body, gave the assailant a smug wave._

_Everything, the statues, the bombs, D fighting Adair, had all been Fergus's plan to lure Adair into that one spot without him noticing. The rubble from the shelves and statues had hidden the looped rope. Once Adair had stepped into that spot, Kylon had triggered the trap._

_Adair attempted to hoist himself up to cut the rope, but Aedan rushed out from the side and bludgeoned the man back down with his shield. Momentarily dazed, Adair finally dropped his swords._

_It seemed almost too good to be true. Aedan swiped the vials of noxious green liquid from beneath Adair's coat and stuffed them into his knapsack. The man hung upside groaning, while Kylon restrained Victor._

_"I'm going to get these to the mages, they should be able to concoct an antidote." Aedan peered at D's scraped and bleeding body. No doubt Adair's poisonous swords had gotten him too. "I'll get one for you too, don't worry."_

_"I'll have my own people concoct one, it'll be quicker. Less Chantry oversight on what the mages can and can't do." said D who snatched the vials away from Aedan._

_"I can't thank you enough."_

_"Let's just add it to the enormous pile of debt you owe me, in addition for all my broken goods." The crime lord placed his hand on Aedan's shoulder to lean on. The sinister grin on D's face sent cold shivers down Aedan's spine._

_It seems Aedan had just traded one problem for another._


	26. Parent

_Teharel opened his groggy eyes. A gnawing pain ate away at where his right leg should have been. Instead a bandaged lump protruded from his pants. He wiggled his stump of a leg and sighed. He glanced at the wrinkled skin on his arm- it had yellowed slightly._

_The old elf lay in the bed of his old house, where Hijaya and Jarat currently lived. He could still smell some of the food by the table. Judging by the smell, he had just missed breakfast. Teharel scowled upon seeing that the married couple had removed his liquor cabinet._

_The second thing he felt was the soft head of his daughter resting against his arm asleep. Had she been by his side the entire time? Jarat slept in a chair father back in corner. The elf scoffed. Show a little more love son in law. At least sit next to your wife and show some care for me as well, thought Teharel._

_Still standing and looking over Teharel, however, was Aedan. The young noble rubbed at the bags under his eyes and grunted half-asleep at Teharel._

_"Oi...Aedan, I see I kept you up all night with worry," coughed Teharel._

_The young man crossed his arms and scoffed. "Don't kid yourself. I saw you getting up and I decided to stand over here." Despite his rather cold statement, Aedan smiled, albeit sadly. He handed Teharel a glass of water and the parched elf guzzled it down. For five whole days the old elf had slept without sustenance._

_"Such hurtful words once I wake up." The elf tried to slam down the glass on the nightstand, yet couldn't muster more than a soft thud. He doubted that simple prolonged inactivity caused such strength loss. "Don't you know how to treat the dying?" His eyebrow raised. "Or am I not?"_

_"I got you the antidote." Aedan no longer smiled. His bangs covered his face as the young man gazed at the floor. Aedan couldn't bear to meet Teharel's eyes._

_"But?" Teharel asked._

_"Whatever organ inside that deals with toxins and such, it's been damaged by your years of excessive drinking, as well as all those additional poisons you've had over the years. Because of that, it didn't process the poison well enough. It did a lot of damage to your insides. The mages gave you one year."_

_"Ah." The elf rubbed at his arm. "One year then."_

_Silence passed. Aedan fidgeted with his sleeve till he found the courage to speak. "I'm sorry. I assume this means you'll be quitting."_

_"I suppose so." Teharel held the glass and sipped again. This time he put it down gently._

_"It's been a good year."_

_"What do you mean 'It's been a good year'?" Teharel threw a nearby book at Aedan right in the face. "Don't just go killing me off like that. I'm not going to garden that mess of a house anymore, but I'm still expecting you to come down and show me how your training is going every once in awhile."_

_The young noble chuckled at the elf's energy. "I don't think you should push yourself too hard, Teharel."_

_"Even with one damn leg, I can still beat the shit out of you."_

_"Sure."_

_At his feet, Teharel noticed a rather familiar bundle by Aedan's feet. An envelope filled with documents- with a single stain on the front. Teharel remembered how he had accidentally spilled whiskey on the envelope before storing them in D's warehouse. "The documents?" he asked._

_"D gave them to me. Said they're more trouble than they're worth."_

_"He's not wrong. Did you look at them?"_

_"Yeah, and the only thing in there is gibberish. Made up words and scrambled letters."_

_"Not everyone is as stupid as you. It's encryption; you need the correct sequence of letters to decode it. Not that I was the one who encrypted it- that was a teammate of mine."_

_"Not an expert in that field."_

_"I didn't think so."_

_"Considering neither of us can read this, are you sure you don't just want me to burn this?"_

_Teharel eyed the envelope again. "No. Adair wanted that information. I need to know why."_

_"Why can't you just tell me what the information is?"_

_"The documents there, are not just mine. It's all the reports that all the members used. I haven't gone through all of them, because they were coded before I could read them, and it's hard to decipher them at first glance."_

_Another silence ensued. During training, they cursed and swore. Compared to that, Aedan and Teharel weren't used to opening up like this. The two rubbed at the back of their necks, looking down at the floor._

_"Did D tell you...about what we did?" asked Teharel, his voice quiet._

_"Bits and pieces."_

_"Ah." Teharel's grip tightened on his sheets. Aedan looked at the pensive elf. Teharel had made his choice long ago, and whatever he had done had been set in stone. Aedan could make his own decisions regarding the elf's morals._

_"Give me the cipher code," said the noble._

_"What?"_

_"Hurry up, you geezer."_

_"Calm down you shemlen piece of shit," said Teharel, "Are you sure?"_

_"Until we know what Adair's plans were, we can never conclude this. So I'll take that burden off of you. You've done enough."_

_Not only did he owe a crime lord, Aedan was now translating dangerous documents that could put him in the crosshairs of dangerous people. Such misfortune, he thought, but it's worth it. For Teharel, Aedan would do what Fergus had done for his little brother. Take care of things._

_Teharel scribbled down a sequence of letters onto a scrap of paper and handed it Aedan. The noble glanced at it. "Utter gibberish," laughed Aedan, wedging the slip into his pocket. "Don't worry Teharel. You don't need to worry about a thing. You and your daughter will be safe. I promise."_

_"Aedan?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Thank you...for giving me a tomorrow."_

_As Teharel breathed out, he could feel the fatigue of a previous life, one that he had carried with him all these years. Now, at long last, he could pass on the torch. Teharel hoped, no, knew, Aedan could settle this. The elf knew how selfish he was burdening Aedan like this. As Teharel ruffled his daughter's hair in between his wrinkled digits, he couldn't help but want to be a little selfish for once._

_Aedan stepped outside, waited a few minutes, then peered back in. Hijaya had just woken up with a little bit of drool dripping from her face. She flushed in embarrassment at her father's grin and her elven ears grew pinkish._

* * *

Oren, Fergus's son, had been about the same age as Connor. Aedan still remembered the little boy pretending to be a monster to try and scare Aedan. As the self-proclaimed 'fun uncle' Aedan always fell over in fright and struggled to hold back his laughter.

Now Aedan truly faced a monster in a child's body.

Connor's neck twisted in an unnatural direction. His jaw extended and he let loose a bone chilling scream that rattled all in the room. His skin, pale and corpse looking, stretched over his tiny face. Aedan tried to fathom the demon that lay beneath those glazed over eyes- yet he knew it to be futile. Such matters would always be beyond him.

The boy's feet lifted off and the boy glided off to the upper levels of the castle. On the floor lay the bleeding Bann Teagan. His guards sat nearby, also battered from their fight with Aedan's group. Isolde ran to Teagan and called, "Teagan! Wake up, Teagan! Please!"

The man could only murmur. Though inaudible, he tried to reassure Isolde, despite his own critical condition. Wynne rushed to the Bann's side and began her healing magic. "He has simply suffered blood loss and dementia from the demonic control. I believe he will be fine in time."

Shaking, Isolde turned to the Aedan. Her eyes plead for her son's mercy. "Warden, please. I know what this looks like."

Aedan put his sword back in his scabbard to try the calm the woman. "Isolde, please calm down. I'm not about to go rush in and kill a child."

"...Do we have any other option?" muttered Sten, eyeing the stairway the Connor had entered.

"Wait-" Jowan ran onto the scene from the other side of the room.

"YOU!" Lips quivering, Isolde raised a dagger at Jowan, yet dared not move towards him. "You did this to us! You...monster!"

"Lady Isolde, you can hate me all you want, but I didn't cause the demon to possess Connor. I want to get it out of him."

He turned to Aedan. "I have a way to get it out of him. Similar to the Harrowing, we'll send a mage into the Fade using Connor's mind as a reference point. From there, they will need to hunt down and destroy the demon."

Wynne glanced at Jowan, and nodded at Isolde. "He does speak the truth. We could rid Connor of the demon that way...but at great risk to whoever goes inside. Furthermore, it's not even possible without large amounts of lyrium and more mages."

Jowan swallowed. "I know...but there's another way to power the ritual. Blood magic. More specifically, the sacrifice of a live human."

Trembling, Isolde looked at Aedan straight in the eyes. She nodded once. Aedan knew what she wanted, and whom she wanted to sacrifice.

* * *

With desperation, Aedan rode towards the mage tower. He egged on his horse as much as he could, whipping the reins to the point of abuse.

_Faster!_

A live human. Sacrificing Isolde was out the question. He wouldn't let it happen-

But was he in the right here, trying to get help from the Mage Tower instead? He had told Alistair and the rest to hold on, while he rode to the Circle of Magi for lyrium and more mages. Each second he rode, the demon lurked in castle of Redcliffe. Aedan doubted the villagers ability to fend for themselves while Teagan, the knights, and Aedan's own group had holed up in the castle.

Was his judgement clouded? Was this risk worth it, or was he letting his sentimentality get the best of him?

Morrigan word's still lingered on Aedan's mind.

No emotional attachment.

Isolde's attachment to Connor had caused this dilemma and countless deaths. Had Isolde just wanted to spare Connor the pain of the tower, or simply spare herself the pain of separation? Whatever the intention, now his life and Redcliffe hung in the balance.

Teagan's attachment to his family led him to rush in with Isolde. Now he lay bleeding on the floor of Redcliffe Castle. He simply wanted to save his family, and yet in doing so forced Aedan and his company to waste effort subduing him.

Would Aedan's own attachment to the memories of his family destroy him? Back in Redcliffe, what he had done in blocking off the undead almost killed him. He had wanted to protect the men, but was that just out of guilt for what had happened in Highever? Each time he swung his sword, he kept thinking of them: Fergus, Oriana, Oren, Nan, Mother, and Father. Each time he saved someone, he moved farther away from being the failure of a man who couldn't save his family.

But how many more? A hundred? A thousand? The world? I can't keep living like this- it's barely living at all.

He had seen so much destruction wrought by people like Howe, Loghain, and Uldred. Even before the Blight, there had been harshness inflicted upon others: onto Bann Aberlard's son, onto Isolde, onto Alistair, onto Teharel.

What hope remained if the world lacked goodness? When even those with good intentions cause destruction?

But that wasn't true.

On that fateful night, his parents let go of the child they so cherished. With him, he carried their hope and saved the Circle and Redcliffe. Their sacrifice, and their intentions, had not been wasted. Isolde, Teagan, the villagers, and even Jowan were still fighting, still risking their lives for someone else's happines. Those were people worth fighting for. At the very least, Aedan would show them someone out there was fighting for them too.

He would be their hope, and they would be his.

Aedan whipped the reins once again.

* * *

The wait cut deeper than any fight. Each moment Alistair, on edge, guarded the entrance to the upper levels of Redcliffe, the very same stairwell Connor had fled upwards. He only tapped out occasionally to sleep for a paltry hour or two. He had to keep watch, for threats both inside and out. Who knows what would happen if someone decided to go upstairs and kill Connor.

Though a day had past, save for the wounded, Isolde still struggled to hold back her tears. Isolde had resigned herself to silence in the corner of the room. Teagan rested at her feet, now conscious, but woozy and weary from the pain. The blood from the Redcliffe knights still stained the center carpet.

Even though this woman had terrorized him throughout his youth, Alistair knew he should do something. He motioned for Zevran to take over his guard post, then walked over to Isolde and wrapped his cloak around her shivering body. "It'll be okay, Lady Isolde."

She still shook. "He'll come back?"

Alistair placed her hand on her shoulder. "Without a doubt, even if the sky were raining fire, Aedan will be back."

As he turned away, Alistair hid his grimace from Isolde. Aedan wasn't the concern: the question was whether Connor's appetite for destruction had been sated for long enough. Alistair nevertheless wouldn't say such things to her.

A slam against the main door. Isolde jumped out of her seat. The noise wasn't from upstair, but from the gate. Alistair whipped his sword out and stood at the ready. The rest of his companions similarly drew their weapons. Magic swirled in Morrigan's palms.

The group heard the sounds of the gate being drawn up, and the stomping of feet. Aedan strode in, carrying several large sacks of lyrium. The mages followed with their own apparatuses and books.

"Let's get this started. We got a kid to save," heaved Aedan, sweat dripping down his forehead from having sprinted.

With great speed, the mages drew chalk circles on the floor and arranged the lyrium in the center. Whilst the others did their work, Irving limped over to the Warden. "Have you made a decision yet? About who to send into the Fade?"

Aedan's finger pointed in the direction of the blood mage. "We're sending in Jowan."

"What? He's an apostate; a blood mage." Irving turned aside to glance at Jowan. He too remembered the young mage and his escape attempt.

It seemed unfair that Jowan, despite his best intentions, had only suffered. Yes, he used blood magic, yet Aedan didn't truly understand whether such a thing corrupted a person to below human standards. If the man wanted to help, then Aedan would let him. "You wanted your redemption, Jowan? Here it is."

* * *

"Warden, I...I can't thank you enough."

Connor slept soundly, his head resting on Isolde's lap. Jowan's trip into Fade took only ten minutes. For someone who had not been expected to survive his Joining, he had made short work of the demon.

"Don't thank me yet." Aedan hovered over the still sleeping Eamon, along with Wynne and the First Enchanter. "If we at least had a sample of the poison, there's a slim possibility we could concoct a cure."

First Enchanter Irving pried open Arl Eamon's eye and checked for any abnormalities. Aedan grimaced at this familiar situation. "How much time does he have?"

"Surprisingly, he is stable. As long as we sustain his nutrients by means of magic, then he could perhaps live as long as any of us. It's almost as though he's sleeping."

"Does that mean the demon actually helped?"

"It's possible. This does complicate the situation. The demon may in fact have cured the poison, but the symptoms may still remain. It's similar to the stories of wishes that backfire. If you're not specific enough, demons will not fulfill exactly what you want. Most likely young Connor wished for the poison to be gone, but not for his father to wake up."

"Tsk. Stingy ass demons," muttered Aedan. "So the antidote method is out of the question now."

"I'm assuming the healer here has tried all the standard poison treatments and salves?"

"Everything. We've tried everything. He...may never wake up." Irving finished his examination, and reluctantly began, "I...think-"

"How about the Urn? The Urn of Sacred Ashes?" came Isolde's desperate shout. Connor turned in his sleep and mumbled at the loud interruption. Everyone turned to Lady Isolde. "It is rumored that the ashes of the holy Andraste can cure any illness," stated Isolde.

Teagan wasn't sure if she was serious."That's just a rumor, Isolde. We can't waste our time looking around for it."

"It's a rumor, but rumors can have basis in reality. By word of mouth, an actual miracle cure may have been mistaken to be the Ashes of Andraste. If we follow these claims of the Ashes, there's a distinct possibility we could find a cure," said Aedan. In truth, he didn't want to bet everything on such a rumor, but they had only this lead. An unconventional situation required unconventional solutions. "But I'm sorry, Isolde, but until you have solid leads on the location of such a cure, I cannot follow up on this. My party and I have to continue preparing for the Blight."

"I understand, Warden. I'll send the knights out to search. Once we have something solid, I will inform you."

"How about you, Teagan?"

"Denerim clamors for the Arl of Redcliffe, and yet he has fallen ill. I will need to take my brother's place in court for now. I will try to hamper Loghain as much as I can for you, Warden."

"What else is there to take care of?" Aedan didn't want to leave anything unfinish-

"What about Connor?"

All five people had a heavy look on their faces when Wynne asked the question. No one, not even those from the Circle, enjoyed being the ones to tear a child from his family.

"He will need to be taught by the Circle," stated the First Enchanter.

"If I may First Enchanter," interrupted Aedan. A plan had formed in his head. "Whilst the Arl is still sick, we'll need a mage on constant medical duty. If we leave a Circle sanctioned mage here along with some templars to protect the Arl, wouldn't you say it'd be a more suitable teaching environment than the current state of the Tower?"

Irving tried his best not to smile. He had to stay composed at all times, yet the suggestion warmed his heart. Stroking his beard in thought, Irving mused, "Yes. That may work. I will speak to the templars about this, and tell them of your idea. Knowing how much they owe you, I think they will take it under consideration." The First Enchanter bowed and took his leave along with Wynne. Once the door had shut, Isolde threw herself at Aedan and hugged him as hard as she could.

"Thank you, Warden." Isolde sobbed into his chest. "Truly." Her tears ran down his tunic and even dripped to the floor. "What can I do to ever repay you, for saving my family?"

Aedan could have probably used the extra sovereigns. Maybe some knights to accompany him. Maybe he could just save this favor for later.

Yet Aedan knew exactly what he needed to do. Not for himself, but for Connor. Aedan placed both hands on her shoulders and told Isolde what had been done for him a long time ago:

"Just cherish him. Cherish him while you still can. Teach him as much as you can. That way, when he finally goes into the world, he'll be ready- because when he goes to that tower, he's going to be scared. He's going to be angry. He's going ask 'why me?' But the more you cherish him, the more he'll remember you. The more he'll remember that outside and inside of that tower are people just like you. People worth fighting for."

The memories of his family constantly ate away at Aedan. Dinner with everyone. Telling stories to Oren. Helping Nan with her errands. Listening to his mother and father bicker. Playing pranks on Fergus.

He had swung his sword for redemption for that night his family died. He had gritted his teeth as their memories powered each of his blows, but no matter how many times he swung, he could never bring them back.

So now, what he had to do-

What they all had to do-

"And eventually, he'll stop looking backwards, and start moving forwards to his tommorow."

Isolde made the saddest smile through her streaming tears. "That's a tall order, Warden," she laughed, wiping away those fragile droplets.

"Sorry, but you're going to have to do it," he laughed. He realized how lame and childish what he had just said was, yet perhaps Isolde needed those idealistic words. The noises of everyone had finally stirred Connor from his long sleep. Isolde rushed to his side and cradled him. Aedan watched and whispered:

"You're his parent after all."


	27. Tommorow

Corpses littered the barren soil where Lothering once stood. Some hung from the broken pieces of buildings, and others lay half-eaten. Blood stained the remains of the Chantry. A stench permeated the air, yet not one of rot. The Blight delayed body decomposition; the taint applied not only to mammals, but smaller organisms like flies and grubs. Aedan inhaled all he could. He needed to remember this smell: how it sickened him till he wanted to puke. He needed to remember this sight: how the weeks old bodies still looked freshly slaughtered.

Only Alistair and Aedan stood in the ruins. The entire darkspawn horde had swarmed the town and infected the entire area with the taint, thus toxifying the area to all but Grey Wardens. The rest of the group camped in the forest awaiting the results of the survey.

Lothering. Now the town existed only in memory. Aedan wondered how many had survived. The number of corpses, no matter how it disgusted Aedan, paled in comparison to the losses of Ostagar. If the king's army and Grey Wardens had been so easily slaughtered, then villages like Lothering stood no chance. Aedan needed higher tolerance for the escalating carnage.

Aedan hovered over a lone darkspawn corpse. Several villagers surrounded it, along with their weapons. It took all of them to bring down just one darkspawn. How scared must they have been? Seeing their friends and family murdered before them?

Aedan slammed his sword into the darkspawn corpse again and again, seething through his teeth. He should have been here. This was his job. He should have been here. Their eyes stared at him in accusation, cold and dead. Aedan's stomach churned.

"DAMN IT!" Blood splattered over Aedan's boots. No matter how much Aedan struck, he still felt the eyes of the dead watching. His blows dulled until finally Aedan relented. "We can't save them all, can we?" he panted as he sheathed his bloodstained weapon. At the very least, he wanted to build a proper pyre, but... "There's too many to make a proper pyre. We'll just have to burn them."

One by one, Aedan and Alistair lit the bodies. Aedan felt like an arsonist, for burning these barely decomposed bodies.

"Should we say something?" asked Alistair, who surveyed the scattered fires. They had wandered the entire area to burn every last body.

"We didn't know them. We didn't save them." Aedan tossed the torch onto the final corpse. "I don't think we get that right."

Staring into the fire of their failure, Alistair asked, "What's next for us?" His face twisted in mental agony as he locked eyes with the dead. His gaze fell.

"Until Isolde has solid leads on the Ashes, we keep working. I've got leads on the Dalish, and a merchant informed me of a golem. Might be useful." Despite the horrors before him, Aedan remained stone-faced. Alistair saw this, yet knew that Aedan ached. He had remained stoic before Uldred, before the undead, even the demon-possessed Connor, but no man could remain unshaken. Alistair could at least cheer Aedan up by reminding him of their success.

"Thank you, for doing everything you could to save the Arl's family. I know that I spoke ill of the Arlesse before, but...she holds a place in my heart regardless."

Aedan paused. He thought back on the several days he took to bring the mage tower to Redcliffe. What if they had instead gone to Lothering to defend them? The grip on his sword tightened. "We worked the hardest we could and we saved one family. We just burned the corpses of twenty."

People would die. Aedan had always known this, it simply had not hit him until now. He'd never seen the corpses of his family, nor of those at Ostagar. Seeing the dead at Lothering just made the losses real. Their one triumph at Redcliffe cost them time they could have used for Lothering. Whether the village could have been saved didn't matter. Aedan and Alistair had to carry that doubt.

Aedan tried not to shake. "We're going to lose a lot more than we win, but we're going to win this," he asserted to Alistair and himself. "We have to."

* * *

For once, Aedan did not take guard duty. He instead elected to stay by Morrigan's fire that night. He roasted a rabbit over her fire, rotating the rabbit with concentration and precision. Morrigan scrutinized him.

"Not comingling with the others tonight?"

"No...I'd just get roped into guard duty. I'd like a little break."

"You seem stoic enough to me. Not even blood magic scares you. How scary," joked Morrigan as she leaned her chin in her hands.

"You make it sound like I'm some sort of monster." Aedan broke off a piece of the roasted rabbit.

"You mow down undead, slaughter ogres, destroy even Pride abominations. All those civilians must feel so very safe."

"Thought you didn't care about them. Survival of the fittest."

"I don't. What I care about is your prowess. It warrants investigation- and I do not hate others. Wolves do run in packs. Tis foolish to think one can go it alone."

"So you don't oppose friendship and love."

"Do not be a fool. I travel with those whom I respect."

"So you respect me? That's nice."

Ignoring Aedan's jests, Morrigan continued on. "Tell me. I lived in a world apart from people. Isolated from them. I built my life around avoiding detection and cultivating my own power, yet they do not revere me. Instead I am feared." She focused in on Aedan in his entirety, as though scanning him for weakness. "And yet here you are. The masses flock to you. You do not swing your sword to force people to do things. Your words and movement hold power. Explain it."

One as shrewd as Morrigan couldn't determine this? Aedan chuckled. Even Morrigan needed help learning things. "People skills," he lectured, "You tell them a mix of what they want to hear and what needs to be heard. That magical mixture instils hope. It's simple."

"Hmph. They truly are buffoons. I, on the other hand, have no need for such words."

"So you make your own hope. In a way, you're a lot stronger than me."

"Stronger in one way? I think many."

"Coming from the woman who couldn't climb up a horse."

"Coming from the man who couldn't even undo his own armor."

Despite such hurtful statements, the two shared a smirk. Their playful banter continued: these expressions of Aedan hadn't surfaced for a while. Aedan often had to put on a brave face and uplift them with others- but he didn't need to hide with Morrigan. She didn't need him to inspire her. In a world with people depending on him, she instead walked alongside him.

Thinking back on events, Aedan wrung his hands and gazed into the fire. He chewed the rabbit at a slow, methodical pace.

"Aedan. Did you hear what I said?" interrupted Morrigan. Aedan perked up at her voice. Lost in thought, Aedan had cut off the conversation accidentally.

"Ah sorry sorry," said Aedan with a hearty chuckle. Morrigan had grown accustomed to Aedan listening to her. For him to ignore her unexpectedly soured her expression like a pouting child. She pursed her plump lips and glanced away.

"What were you saying?" asked Aedan.

"Nothing," smiled Morrigan.

Silence ensued, yet didn't bother either. The two sat beneath the clear night sky, both watching the crackling fire. After quite some time, Morrigan glanced over and declared: "Tis cold."

"Mmm." Aedan stared into the flames, lost in thought. Annoyed, Morrigan slid next to him and wrapped her arms around his. The cold of her skin startled him. The warden went red and instinctively gazed at Morrigan.

"Tis cold in my tent, all alone." She stroked her finger up and down his arm.

"Is it now?" stuttered Aedan. He still hadn't thought more on Morrigan's earlier proposal. "Sometimes I find that extra blankets or tucking it under me or setting up closer to the fire-"

"Aedan." Her soft gaze lingered along with the silence. She exhaled and her breath felt hot against his face. Aedan's words left him. His heart hastened.

_Maker, she's beautiful._

"Shut up and kiss me," murmured Morrigan ever so softly. All the thoughts in Aedan's head disintegrated. Delicate cold fingers slid against his.

Aedan couldn't help but lean in and kiss her.

* * *

_Scarcely had Aedan seen his parents so angered at him, and even fewer at Fergus, for he was the civil one in the family._

_Bryce Cousland struggled to maintain his calm, pacing back and forth whilst he fumed in silence. What frightened Aedan more was the death gaze of his mother, which she directed at him alone. Whenever trouble occurred in the Cousland household, she always knew the perpetrator's identity, mainly because it was always Aedan._

_"Would you like to explain to me why the guards, instead of bringing you two back last night, lost you, and instead we've imprisoned two convicts? One of whom I might mention is restrained by all manners of chains?"_

_Kylon's reasoning for bringing Adair and Victor to the Cousland's Denerim estate made sense. If the two had been released before from the royal dungeons, they could escape again. After having hurt Aedan however the Cousland family gained judicial precedence, and thus custodial rights were granted until Adair's hearing. Aedan shivered at the thought of Adair living under the same roof as both him and Teharel's documents._

_"What were you thinking! You two could have gotten yourselves killed!" ranted Eleanor. Aedan feared she might scratch out his eyes. Knowing how well polished his mother kept her nails, she could very well do so._

_Fergus muttered under his breath, "It was Aedan's idea."_

_"I'll kill you, brother," replied Aedan without missing a beat._

_"I will kill both of you," seethed their father. "According to Sergeant Kylon's report, the man known as Adair is 'dangerous enough to take down twelve guards and heavily armed'. And you went chasing after him in the night!" Aedan wasn't sure, but he thought his father's forehead had wrinkled even more.._

_"Teharel was in danger though-"_

_"Teharel is fired by the way, I will not let him stay in this castle after the danger he has brought to you."_

_"Well, he sort of gave me his resignation a few hours ago, so you're late in that department-"_

_"While I appreciate your noble intentions, please, for Maker's sake, do not try and kill your Father and I early with stress. We were worried sick."_

_Aedan bowed in regret. He hadn't thought of how his parents must have been, waiting in their bedroom all night worried with stress. "I'm sorry, to both of you."_

_Bryce grunted and his face soured in neither approval nor disapproval. "Now that is out of the way, your mother and I are going out to dinner with Arl Howe. Please, do not try to get yourselves killed inside the house."_

_Before leaving, Eleanor pulled the housekeeper aside."Nan, keep these two away from the cutlery." She glared at her two boys with ill intent. "Maker knows what havoc they'll bring."_

_After the others had left, Aedan held his hand out to Fergus. "Thank you. For sticking by my side last night. For coming up with the plan that took down Adair."_

_Fergus shook Aedan's hand. "That's what an older brother is supposed to do: look out for his little brother."_

_"I guess so."_

_Still shaking hands, Fergus's smile turned rather malicious. "And as the younger brother, isn't it your duty to repay your wonderful sibling for all the help he's given you? By which I mean, oh I don't know, looking after Oren for several weeks while Oriana and I go on a long deserved vacation?" He tightened and tried to crush Aedan's hand._

_Aedan groaned. No doubt those two would canoodle in a cozy village, leaving him to deal with his parents and Oren. Rubbing his face in irritation, Aedan peeked at his brother's stupid grin. He was grateful his hand covered his face, or else Fergus would have spotted a grin just as stupid._

_"Getting me to do your work again, such a lazy brother!" Aedan too squeezed tighter. Both men's faces reddened as they tried to defeat the other. Eventually, once they had reached a standstill, Fergus punched his brother in the chest to save his almost broken hand._

_They always bickered, fought, and pulled each other hair. They laughed together, drank together, and nursed each other hangovers. Most of all, no matter what pinch either of them got into, they always had each other's back._

_That's my bother of a brother, thought Aedan as Fergus put him in a headlock._

* * *

Morrigan did not cling much; even Isabela had hugged him for a bit. After catching her breath, Morrigan had simply sat right back up. Aedan couldn't help but stare at that flawless smooth back of hers as she pulled her robes over herself. The night's events were still seared into his mind: how she had lay bare before him, how he ravaged her, how she bit her lip to keep in her moans.

"Well, well, looks like the rumors about the Grey Warden's stamina are true after all. Physical prowess combined with that darkness of the taint makes for quite the combination." She wiped sweat off her still slicked forehead. Her usual tied up hair had been undone in the mix, and raven locks fell below her shoulders.

Aedan propped himself up on one elbow. "What now?"

"What now indeed. I did certainly enjoy that." Morrigan turned to him and smiled. "And I know for a fact that you did as well."

"I think it would be a pity, nay, even foolish of us not to take advantage of such a situation again," smirked Aedan.

"Exactly. What else is life for if not for enjoying it's pleasures- but there shall be no talk of silly things such as 'love'. This is physical, nothing else. If you want someone to cradle you to sleep, go find someone else."

Aedan knew it would be difficult to separate his emotions from his physical relationship, but it couldn't be harder than standing stoic in front of an army, emotionless. He could do it. He had to be able to do at least this much.

'Sounds good to me." Aedan too collected his things and prepared to leave.

"Good."

Just as Morrigan was about to kick Aedan out of her tent, she smiled and bit her lip. After a moment's thought, she pulled her robe back over her head. Morrigan straddled Aedan, and his eyes lingered over her swaying breasts. She laughed at his immaturity and grasped him by the chin, leading his eyes into hers. "The night is still young."

Aedan chuckled and pulled her in for a long, deep kiss. His fingers intertwined with her soft, dark hair as he cradled her head. Gradually, it intensified, as the sweet honey taste of her lips sent Aedan into a fervor. Morrigan placed her hands on Aedan's chest. Gradually Aedan's warmth began to seep into her chilled hands.

Their lips parted, but their surfaces lingered for the briefest of moments. Aedan stared into those unfathomable eyes of hers that twinkled with mischief and chaos: were they the eyes of a scheming wolf devouring it's prey, or of a woman indulging in her lust? To be frank, he didn't care. For the first time since a certain night, Aedan Cousland looked forward to tomorrow.

* * *

**PART 3 END**

* * *

 


	28. Gift

* * *

**Interlude**

* * *

 

The sounds of explosives ringing in his ears.

The screaming of innocents.

The tearing of flesh.

None of these compared in pure unadulterated agony to Alistair's chewing. The man's lips loudly smacked against one another. The food inside made disgusting sticky noises.

Aedan's eye twitched. Under any other circumstance, he would tolerate this. However, as the templar's mouth hovered literally in front of his ear, Aedan had to hold down his own hand to keep himself from slapping Alistair. Furthermore, Alistair scowled at him, which both bewildered and annoyed Aedan.

"I'm sorry, Aedan," stated Alistair in a loud monotone voice, "am I being too loud?" He chomped down on his food extra hard and drew out his chewing.

"Just a bit." Aedan clenched his bowl. He wondered if breaking it over the other man's head would cause acceptable injuries.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Perhaps I should be more considerate to others when I do some sort of activity which involves noise." Alistair's eyes widened and he nodded up and down, as though expecting Aedan to do the same.

Slowly Aedan faced the templar, as not to unleash his rage by accident. "Subtlety isn't really your strong point, is it?"

"I don't know what you mean," spat out Alistair through his gruel. A little bit of spit flew onto Aedan's face.

Aedan wiped aside the stray bits. "Is this about the-"

"I believe it is referring to the daily fornication with the swamp witch."

The other members of the group looked down at their food and munched away, avoiding any conversation. Aedan had never experienced such an awkward silence. Twisting his body around, Aedan looked up at the culprit.

"Thank you, Shale," seethed Aedan.

The trip to Honnleath had been quite uneventful, save for the minor darkspawn infestation. By now, the group killed darkspawn regularly when travelling in the south. After Ostagar they spilled out and wandered. They had not yet assembled in large hordes since Ostagar; perhaps that battle sated the darkspawn. The so called 'darkspawn sense' had kicked in for Aedan. Darkspawn always flocked to him when travelling.

Better me than some clueless travellers, he thought.

One such traveller had donated a golem rod to Aedan. After some trouble, the group had welcomed Shale (or at least Aedan) with open arms. Shale did not care for the gesture. The golem seemed to care very little except for the eradication of birds, which had led to tonight's chicken soup.

"Perhaps I wasn't clear enough. My previous statement was intended to be rather snide. Unless, of course, it would like me to say more?" Shale's statement dripped with such malice that Aedan simply didn't respond. He sighed: better that he deal with this now. Aedan had not yet discussed with the others anything regarding him and Morrigan. "Well, Alistair?"

"It's not you," admitted Alistair, trying his best to smile, "it's mostly her." Alistair looked to his fellow warden for a reciprocation of his grin. Aedan stared at him blankly with loathing eyes. Clearly Aedan did not want to talk about this, and yet Alistair was digging into it, so Aedan would make him suffer for it.

"As in?"

"Are you really going to make me say it?"

"If you're going to chew in my ear, you better be prepared to say it."

"She shrieks like a genlock, Aedan," blurted out Leliana. She clasped her hands over her mouth as soon as the words left it, but shook her head and took a deep breath in. "I'm sorry, but I haven't been able to get a good night's sleep for the past two weeks since you two started your...little tryst."

Alistair beamed: finally, an ally appeared. "See, I'm not alone! So, for all of our sakes, could you please tell her to, you know, close her mouth or something."

"Why not just tell her yourself?"

"I feel as though this is a sensitive topic that needs to be handled with the utmost care. Also it infuriates me to deal with her." Alistair crossed his arms,

Sitting on the other side of Aedan, having been ignoring Alistair the entire time and eating her meal, was Morrigan. "Do not speak as if I am not present,", growled Morrigan, who still didn't care enough to even look in the templar's direction.

"Can't see you. Out of sight out of mind."

"I'm literally a sword's length away from you, and that's at least within your useful distance, although even that is debatable."

Alistair threw his arms up in exasperation at Morrigan's snark. "My point exactly."

Indeed, Aedan feared what might happen, sitting between Alistair and Morrigan. Perhaps he might implode from their generated fury. Stranger things had befallen him. With that in mind, Aedan outstretched his arms and pushed Morrigan and Alistair further apart on the log all three sat on. "I feel rather uncomfortable discussing my sex life with you all. We all have gotten close over the past few months, but there is too close."

"We would not have to discuss this if she quieted down."

"Excuse me for enjoying myself," snarled Morrigan, "I least I don't 'go practice secret templar techniques' in the forest by myself."

Alistair reddened like a tomato, nearly dropping his bowl. "Wh-What are you implying!"

"It is implying that the templar masturbates."

Zevran had to hold both hands over his mouth to keep from bursting out into laughter and tears. "Thank you, Shale," seethed Alistair, who raised his soup-bowl to his face to cover his flushed face.

"Tis all it's own fault for treating me like a coat-stand and thinking I am not equally disgusted by it's actions. In fact, just the other day-"

" _Thank you, Shale,_ " said Aedan and Alistair together. The golem muttered something under it's breath and staggered off.

Out of the corner Aedan saw Morrigan gaze, grumpy as usual, fall upon him. Although his body turned towards Morrigan, Aedan avoided eye contact. He looked a little to her left and scratched his temple. "We could be a little quieter, couldn't we?" He glanced at Morrigan. The witch fumed and exhaled through her nostrils.

"I do not see why I should need to quiet down." A mischievous grin ran across her face, while staring right at Alistair. "If anything, the sounds I make are a direct result Aedan-"

Alistair plugged his ears with two fingers and droned, "Lalalalalala", till he saw Morrigan's mouth stop moving. Leliana cleared her throat and turned her blushing face away.

Aedan sighed; convincing Morrigan of anything would require more time and dedication. He lacked these at night. "Fire's dying. I'm getting some more firewood," he said, desperate for some excuse to escape. Aedan got up as calm as he could, then, once he was out of sight, sprinted away.

* * *

Morrigan glared at the rest of the group. Some, like Sten and Shale, remained ambivalent in their expressions. Despite the golem's comments, Morrigan honestly thought it could care less, and it just enjoyed stirring up trouble. Wynne and Leliana avoided eye-contact; those two steered clear of Morrigan. Only Alistair returned her menacing glare. He stared her down until finally, irritated by his stare, Morrigan relented.

"Fine!" She crossed her arms in front of her and sneered. "I will try my best to be quieter. Now go bother Aedan or something."

Alistair pumped his fist in the air, relishing his rare victory over Morrigan. He danced a little on his seat, much to the bemusement of Leliana and Wynne. Satisfied, he finished up his food and gave a content belch.

"Well, I guess I should be nicer to him, considering his gift," mused the templar. Alistair referred to the stone demon miniature that Aedan had found for him at the market. The templar would not tell anyone, but he liked to line them up in his tent whenever he went to sleep. "Although maybe he was trying to bribe me."

"He is quite considerate in that matter," Wynne nodded. In her tent, a pile books with diverse, interesting topics had been selected for her by Aedan.

The group usually left money management to Aedan. He'd divide the loot and share the profits equally. He always brought a sizeable amount back from the markets; Morrigan suspected that as a noble Aedan must have negotiated a lot.

As such, everyone procured and maintained their own equipment. If such things required extra money, then they'd borrow it from others. Their money separation was quite casual and just a formality. Sten usually elected to forgo his share, and saved the bare minimum, as did others occasionally (save for Zevran).

Leliana frowned in thought, playing with her bronze symbol of Andraste. "Raise your hand if he's given you a gift."

Everyone except Morrigan raised their hand.

"Come now, we all know you didn't magic that necklace out of nowhere," said Zevran, himself having received a rather nice pair of leather boots from Aedan. With an exasperated expression Morrigan raised her hand. She did not particularly enjoy group activities, nor did she particularly enjoy this group.

'And what would your ideal group be? A whole army of me? I'm flattered.' That man no doubt would tease her like that. Aedan had assembled a rather motley crew of individuals. While their combat skills excelled, their personal quirks bothered Morrigan. Most of all, they always demanded she act a certain way- 'civil', as Alistair put it. Did 'civil' behavior also include Aedan's gift giving habit? If so, Morrigan wished to have no part of it.

"Hmm. He's very casual about it, isn't he."

"Maybe we should give him something."

"What...does he like?"

The group sat baffled in silence.

Alistair scratched his head. "He's not particularly religious. I don't think he'd enjoy Chantry trinkets."

"I already warm his bed, so as turns out, I am the most generous out of all you, despite all your complaints suggesting otherwise."

The templar gagged. "That does not count as a gift in any way, shape, or form. Ever."

"But I even do-"

"Lalalala," went Alistair, plugging his ears. He continued for awhile until Morrigan stopped talking.

"Does he like reading?" inquired Wynne.

"Not that I know of."

"He just sorta...sits at the fire and talks."

"A good soldier," said Sten.

"A boring soldier," muttered Zevran.

Whilst the others bickered, Morrigan thought hard on Aedan's interests. What did she always see him doing and enjoying? They weren't wrong in their assessment of his daily activities. They spent the days travelling and finding information. They'd quell the occasional darkspawn, but most were still south. At night, Aedan really did just sit and stare at that fire. Of all of them, he took guard duty the most. It seemed redundant, now that Shale the unsleeping golem had arrived, but even with his new nightly activities, Aedan still continued to stand guard.

Sometimes, Morrigan would join him by the fire, simply to converse. She enjoyed their time together, though she couldn't quite put her finger on why, but at the very least he treated her with more understanding than the rest. Other times she'd just translate her mother's grimoire, sitting silently while he ate.

Ate. Eating.

"He eats...constantly."

Everyone turned to Morrigan. All their stares bothered her, so she looked off into the forest. An inaudible click went off in all the others' heads.

"He does, doesn't he?"

"He's always sneaking extra food or hiding bread rolls or something-"

"He took some of my cookies earlier-"

"I think he ate most of the stew last night-"

"Is he like a child-"

They all noticed, however, that their bickering had begun to louden. Their conversation quieted into nothing more than whispers.

* * *

_"To our little pup's fifth birthday!"_

_The number of adults at the table made Aedan shrink in his seat a little. He had seen some of them in the castle sometimes, but nobody that he particularly cared about, save for his family and Uncle Howe. Fergus sighed in boredom and flicked at a piece of chicken off the table. Aedan's mother had said something about the 'moody teenager phase'. Aedan wasn't sure what she meant, but it always seemed anger Fergus._

_"Look at him, my little boy is growing bigger and bigger every day!" His mother approached him from behind and wrapped her arms around him. She leaned in and planted a big kiss on the top of his neatly done hair. Her brown hair flowed down and tickled the tip of his nose._

_Aedan's mother still towered over him. He wondered when he'd grow that tall. His mother and Nan always claimed that those annoying green things on his plate would help, but they tasted disgusting._

_"Oh, and here's Uncle Howe's gift!"_

_Bryce Cousland lay a small wrapped package in front of Aedan. The young boy clawed the delicate paper to shreds. Inside lay a small ornate lockbox, with a strange lock welded on. The sheer shine of the gift overloaded Aedan's mind. The young boy sat staring at it in a daze._

_"Howe, you bugger. You're making the rest of us look bad!" Fergus playfully punched Howe in the arm. The other man simply smiled and refused to return the blow._

_"What is it, Uncle Howe?"_

_"It's a safe box. Dwarven-made. Every once in awhile, open it up like so-"_

_Howe walked over to the box and began shifting and turning the gears. Strange clicking noises could be heard from the box. After several minutes, however, he still couldn't get it open. Howe's forehead twitched. He made an aside to his guard, who gave the Arl a rather crumpled pamphlet._

_After squinting at the crumpled paper and grumbling, his effort payed off; the box swung open and the inside revealed its interior, with red velvet with dwarven markings stitched in. Howe wiped his forehead and silently cursed the dwarves. "Open it up like so and put important things like money in there."_

_Aedan silently wowed at how amazing it looked. Aedan clung to Howe's leg and gave him a big hug._

_"Thank you thank you thank you! It's so cool!"_

_He raced back to the the box and began turning it upside down and peering inside._

_"Remember Aedan, every once in awhile take some money and put it in. Eventually, you'll have yourself a fortune. Learning to save your money will teach you to become a fine young man, worthy of being a noble."_

_Aedan beamed. "Yes, Uncle Howe!" In his fervor whilst examining the box, the lid snap shut. Howe groaned and covered his face with his hands._

_"Oh, dear, it might take some time for us to get that open again-" muttered Bryce, who was then interrupted by a rather loud click. The lockbox swung back open again, with Aedan having done something to open it. The adults could only stare in amazement as Aedan closed it again, redid the lock, and unlocked it once more. Aedan seemed to enjoy the complicated lock more than the box._

_"Did he just figure that out all on his own?" chuckled Howe. He laughed heartily, so much so that Aedan turned and smiled at him._

_"Whatcha laughing 'bout Uncle?"_

_"Nothing child, nothing at all."_

_Howe wiped away tears from his eyes, and tossed the paper into the fire. Standing over Aedan, he ruffled the boy's hair. "I'm going to have watch out for you when you get older, won't I?"_

* * *

"We have something for you."

Aedan seemed taken aback. Whether it was the package outstretched to him, almost in his face, or Alistair's rather too enthusiastic smile, Morrigan couldn't tell. For her, the latter usually caused the utter disgust for the templar.

"What?" Aedan scratched his head, and squinted his eyes at the package.

Alistair sighed and began to enunciate each word. "We. Have. Something. For-"

"I heard you the first time. It's just...kinda unexpected."

"You give us gifts all the time, why can we not return the favor?" piped in Leliana. She too had on such a sickly sweet grin that Morrigan felt like puking.

Aedan grasped the package that Alistair held out for him. He held it up to his ear and flicked his finger against it, trying to guess what was inside.

"Thanks, everyone."

"Twas the witch's idea to get you that item- you should thank her thoroughly later," snickered Zevran. The elf slithered away before Morrigan could bring her death gaze down upon him.

"How very considerate of you, Morrigan." Aedan smirked at Morrigan's slightly embarrassed and angry face.

"Tis just food, do not get overly excited."

With a gentle touch Aedan undid the wrappings. On his tenth birthday, he had unwrapped his present in such fervor that he accidentally ruined the gift; he had been vigilant after that. The contents extinguished Aedan's smirk.

"Is this salted smoked venison?" The package shook in his trembling fingers. He gulped, and his stomach growled. Morrigan swore she saw the man salivate a little. She crossed her arms and turned away.

"Yes, we thought you might like something meat based. And we travel a lot, so it's easy to carry and eat on the go-"

As Morrigan turned back to face Aedan, he already had it in his mouth, chewing on it like a dog. Morrigan scowled.

"What?" sputtered Aedan through a mouthful of venison.

"Don't eat it all at once, fool. Tis for the road."

"It's my gift. I get to do what I want with it."

"You look like a dog," snapped Morrigan.

"Coming from the woman who shapeshifts into one," replied Aedan without missing a beat.

For a moment, Morrigan considered inviting Aedan back to her tent for afterwards. She peered at him. The contentment on his face made her reconsider. She hadn't seen before this smile before- a cross between nostalgia and satisfaction. He seemed...calm. The witch smiled, leaned her chin on her hand, and continued to watch the man chew.

A quiet night wasn't so bad either.

* * *

_Later that night, after everyone else had retired to their rooms, Aedan sat by the fireplace still examining all his gifts. One noble had given him a rather elaborate drawing set. Aedan basked in the warmth of the fire, and drew._

_A rather crude dragon breathed scribbles onto a stick figure version of Aedan. A smudged army clashed with a horde of monsters. All his family held their three-fingered hands together._

_Aedan's eyes drooped. His mother might scold him if he stayed up any later. After putting away his drawing kit, Aedan opened the box from Howe. He placed inside a single drawing- him and his favorite uncle, with sloppy words written at the bottom:_

_"Me and Uncle Howe."_


	29. Games

* * *

**Part 4: Justice**

* * *

 "No matter what you say, Zevran, I will not accept your 'Antivan Massage'."

"That is a topic for later-"

"A topic for never."

"-but I digress. I have a personal question of you, if I may."

Aedan narrowed his eyes. "How personal?"

Despite having traveled with his companions almost six months now, Aedan still had not told any of them of his past. Only Zevran knew by prior research. The elf had kept his mouth shut so far, save for the occasional snide remark or sinister suggestion.

"You know I don't like personal questions."

"Seems a little unfair," said Zevran. "After all, everyone else seems to come to vent to you regarding their personal problems."

"Like what?" scoffed Aedan.

"Wynne's whole 'I'm an abomination' thing, Sten butchering an entire innocent family, Leliana's past of a bard, and that minor thing of Alistair being heir to the throne."

"I call that a standard week."

Indeed, the past month had been tumultuous. After collapsing on the road, Wynne had revealed her earlier death and subsequent encounter with a Spirit of Faith. A few weeks after, Leliana revealed her past as a bard, and how her former mentor had betrayed her. Of course, then there was Alistair's whole prince business.

"We really can't get anyone normal can we?" Aedan sighed, rubbing his temples. He raised a single finger. "Fine. One question so you don't start badgering me."

"Then I have a question regarding our future battles."

"Shoot."

"Word of advice. Never say 'shoot' to an assassin. Gets us all jittery. At some point, you plan to heal Arl Eamon and have him call the landsmeet."

"That's the plan…however abstract and impossible it may seem."

"And, without a doubt, we will meet Loghain, and his right hand man, in person."

Aedan paused. "Probably."

"While eliminating Loghain before we beat him at the landsmeet would be a political setback, Howe is a slippery bastard and will try to kill us. Would it not be in our best interest to kill him first? We can even pin it on one of Loghain's allies and make it a win win situation."

"No."

"...No?"

"No."

"It is strange that the deadliest out of all of us is opposed to killing, even his own mortal enemy."

"He deserves to die, no doubt. It's just...do I have the right? The authority?" Aedan clenched his fist, thinking back on past events. Half a year had past, yet at times the red hot anger still surged through his chest. "I want him to pay for what he did to my family, but I also want to clear my their name. I'm not going to do that unless I bring him through the proper channels, to the courts."

The elven assassin gave a small smile at Aedan's naivety. "Warden, the only true justice is the one that's carved out with your own bloodied han-"

Just then Zevran twitched his head right, and an arrow zoomed past his ear.

"Ambush!" yelled Aedan, drawing out his sword and shield.

"Told you it was bad luck to say shoot."

* * *

_What truly bothered Aedan wasn't the fact that Adair resided in the dungeons beneath the estate. The man had been bound and chained sufficiently. What bothered him was that someone needed to go and feed the man every day. According to his father, the prisoner was Aedan's fault anyways, so Aedan was tasked with Adair's care. Even then, Nan and the other servants felt uncomfortable being near such a dangerous criminal, so only Aedan had the nerves to interact with Adair._

_Aedan picked up the platter of food Nan had left on the counter. In contrast to the simple scraps left for Adair, Nan had prepared quite the lavish care package for Teharel and Hijaya. Aedan had visited the two and Jarat several times over the past few weeks, despite his father's new disdain for the elf. Aedan suspected that Nan had a soft spot for that geezer of an elf, considering how well made the food was._

_On his way to the dungeon, Aedan heard a familiar voice bickering with his father. Aedan hugged the wall and tried his best to listen in without being seen._

_"Bryce, we cannot delay this any further. The criminal known as Victor must be handed over to us. It's the law; he's an attempted kingslayer."_

_"I know that, Loghain. I also know that according the records, Victor already payed for his crimes; they allegedly tortured him for information, then executed him, and yet the man still lives, and until a few weeks ago, ran free and almost killed my children."_

_"This angers me as much as you. I cannot stomach the fact that Maric's attempted killer roamed free whilst the rest of us were fed a lie. Believe me, Bryce, I had no part in this."_

_"You're an honorable man, I wouldn't suspect you of a thing, but why are you pushing for this to happen?"_

_"It's not me. The rest of the Landsmeet are clamoring for Victor's public trial and execution."_

_"Do you know who could have arranged for Victor's release?"_

_"I have no idea. The guard is heading an investigation into every major noble that could have done this- including you and me. To think, one of these ungrateful nobles dared to release Victor; who do they think freed this country?"_

_Whilst Loghain and his father bickered, Aedan scrambled for the dungeon doors. Eavesdropping wasn't considered proper, and to be caught by Loghain would embarrass Aedan too much. He made sure to shut the entrance to the dungeon as quietly as possible._

_Making his way through the dungeon, Aedan couldn't help but feel sorry for the currently sleeping Victor. Granted, he had tried to kill the king, but his decided method of execution perturbed Aedan. For a man's death to be some sort show to be watched didn't sit quite right with Aedan. He didn't quite know if the magnitude of Victor's crime justified the public event._

_At the end of the hallway, greeting him with a sinister smile, was Adair. Aedan avoided eye contact with the man whilst he undid the door lock._

_"Good morning to you."_

_Aedan stayed silent._

_"I see you're still mad about that 'trying to kill Teharel' bit. That was weeks ago, just let it go."_

_"Shut up and eat." Aedan stuffed the bread loaf into Adair's mouth. He neglected to segment it, so Adair stayed silent whilst he slowly whittled the bread down in his mouth. After a few moments, Aedan snarled, "You deserve to rot in prison for what you did."_

_"And what did I do? I roughed up a few guards and maimed an elf. Sounds like a standard petty crook to me; they might give me a month or so." Adair rolled his eyes up in thought and smiled. "Well, I did kill a bunch of crooks getting into D's hideout, so hell, the crown might even get rid of my sentence, maybe even give me a medal."_

_"Shut up."_

_"But what I deserve...hmm. For what I've done before, by some standards of justice I deserve to be put to death." Adair grimaced. "By those standards, Teharel should also be put to death."_

_"Teharel's not like that."_

_"What you don't know about Teharel could fill a book. Literally. I assume that you've taken Teharel's oh so precious intel."_

_Aedan needed to be careful. He paused before answering, "No. I handed it over to the Ferelden government."_

_The bound man tilted his head and sneered nastily. "Look at you, thinking you can lie to me. I can see it in your expressions that you have it. You seem like a shrew young lad- you know exactly what will happen if me, Victor, or that intel gets handed over to the Fereldan government."_

_Finally Aedan faced towards the man. "What's your game here, Adair?"_

_"Perhaps I'm just taking a little vacation. I reckon I could break out of these restraints if I really tried."_

_Aedan sneered. "If you're so strong, why didn't they send you to kill King Maric instead of-"_

_His eyes widened at his sudden realization._

_They had to have known how strong Victor was. I, who hadn't even been trained by Teharel yet, managed to take him down. If Adair had done it none of us would have had a chance. They sent Victor knowing that he'd probably fail._

_Adair smiled knowingly. The gesture sent a chill down Aedan's spine and he unconsciously took a step back._

_"Little Cousland, I think it's only fair that since you're giving me room and board, I pay you back with a little something...and you seem like a good kid, willing to stick up for his friends."_

_Still that smile persisted. Aedan tried his best to control his breathing, to make it look like he still held control. And yet, although Adair had been bound by chains and leather, Aedan still felt like the man controlled the very room. He watched Adair's restraints. "Didn't think a man like you had values," he said with a false chuckle._

_"Every man has his values. Don't be stupid. And because I believe you're someone worth saving, that I'm going to give you a warning."_

_Although Adair had been smiling and joking before, now he bore a darkened demeanor whilst grimacing. "You best be careful. I may be your deadliest enemy, but I'm certainly not your worst."_

* * *

Aedan disliked entering abandoned warehouses in Denerim at night. Nothing good had happened to him in such places.

After the ambush, the group had discovered that Leliana's former mentor, Marjolaine, had sent the assassins. The very same woman who framed Leliana and had her tortured and almost killed. Using information from the beaten enemies, Leliana had tracked down Marjolaine's hideout to a certain seedy district in Denerim. Only her, Aedan, and Zevran had entered, with the rest keeping watch outside.

What bothered Aedan the most was the way Leliana had asked for his help. "I...I need to settle this. Please," she had said to him, looking quite pained. Leliana had always seemed wistful ever since she left the Chantry, but now she truly looked sad. Aedan couldn't refuse.

His eyes darted around for the ambush that Marjolaine had no doubt planned. He spotted several traps by the hallways doors, and heavily armed guards surrounded the group.

"Move aside, dogs." Despite the harsh words, the Orlesian voice had a certain grace and even appealing tone, unlike Isolde's shrill shrieks. Two guards side-stepped to reveal a woman clad in a traditional Orlesian dress. Her frills seemed unfit for battle, but Aedan knew looks could be deceiving. As she took a step forward, he saw the dress stretch a bit across her legs and the outline of leather armor underneath.

Marjolaine had on a familiar smile. That same knowing smile of Adair's that always mocked him. Aedan scowled. He tired of getting pulled around by the generation before him.

"What terrible friends you have, Leliana," chided Marjolaine. :Look at that expression, like a dog. No manners. Just like all Fereldans, he smells like one too."

Aedan smiled back at her. He too had been taught that special sour smile. "At least I don't smell like someone tripped in a pool of perfume mixed with cat piss. It's very, how do you Orlesians say it, last season."

The edge of Marjolaine's smile wavered.

"What do you want, Majorlaine? Why did you come back?" Leliana's voice trembled. Her body had gone tense. Aedan had never seen the woman get so worked up.

"Because of you, Leliana. Because you know my secrets." The woman paced back and forth. Too much movement: Aedan stood on edge, his hand itching for his sword. "Did you think I would not watch? I wondered what you were doing in that little Chantry of yours, playing the good girl. You sent no communications, and I thought you had given up. Then you joined up with this man."

Majorlaine's eyes fell upon Aedan. "Do not think your exploits have not reached my ears, boy."

Aedan shrugged and made a lackadaisical expression. "I'm just your simple run of the mill Warden."

Marjolaine's smile dissipated. "I took note of you before that." After one last cold glare, Marjolaine turned back to Leliana with that wretched smile. "My little Leliana, you're up to something, and I will not let the secrets in your head take me down."

Leliana scoffed. "You think that I'm trying to take you down? I'm done with you Marjolaine. Done with all of this."

Zevran placed his hand on Leliana's shoulder. "Leliana. You know she'll never stop chasing you."

Are they-

The two looked sideways at Aedan. In that brief moment while their eyes met, all three drew their weapons. The other two ducked behind Aedan and his shield while a volley of arrows rained down on them. Aedan winced as several grazed his legs. Soldiers rushed at them from all angles. Surrounded, Leliana flipped through the air over their heads, and barreled towards Marjolaine. Whilst Aedan took care of the heavy-hitters, Leliana dueled Marjolaine in a fight of daggers and high-kicks. Zevran slithered over to the mages and dodged their fireballs left and right. Closer and closer the elf got, until in a blink of an eye his blade sunk into their backs.

Beset from all side, Aedan threw down a smoke bomb. The vial shattered and noxious grey smoke poured out. He battered the men's heads with his shield and sliced at their legs. Although their random, frenzied blows occasionally hit him, the group of soldiers one by one fell coughing and bleeding to Aedan's rampage, albeit still alive.

The warden winced at the fresh gashes on his arm; fighting non-lethally took a lot of effort, as it allowed more time for his attackers to assail him, so he took a lot more blows. Aedan looked over at Leliana to see her matching Marjolaine in combat. The two combined into one blur of limbs and steel. Right as Aedan ran over to go help, Leliana kicked Marjolaine against the wall, and retreated backwards. She pulled a throwing knife out of her hand and raised it.

Everything slowed.

Leliana's blade hesitated. In that split second, her former mentor leaped forward. Aedan could see it. The graceful arc of a hidden wrist blade gliding towards Leliana's heart. It seemed so natural, almost as if Majorlaine was dancing.

_Not again._

He didn't even think. The entirety of his being jerked forward, an unnatural force in comparison to Marjolaine's refined attacks.

He felt a slight resistance as the edge of his sword pierced her chest. He glanced at the woman's face; she looked just as shocked as him. Aedan's momentum carried the two right into the wooden wall. He could hear the splintering of wood as his sword pierced the wall.

His fingers felt numb. His stomach churned. Marjolaine's blood trickled down from her mouth. Aedan's trembling hands pulled the sword out. The woman's body slumped down against the wall. Her blood painted his sword dark scarlet.

"You've gotten soft, Leliana. Had to have this boy here do your dirty work," sputtered Marjolaine. Her breathing slowed. The light began to fade from her eyes. Yet she still had on that wretched smile.

A tear ran down Leliana's cheek. Her eyes watered. She knelt down and held her former lover's, her former's teacher's, and former enemy's hand in her own. "I...Marjolaine...why couldn't you have just stopped? Why couldn't you have let me live my life?" She squeezed a little tighter.

"Because I knew you'd come to kill me. The game we played never ends, Leliana." With those last venomous words, Marjolaine gasped one last time. The scarlet stain had spread far on her fine dress. Her body twitched, then fell limp. Neither Aedan nor Leliana spoke. The only noise was from Aedan's sword, as Marjolaine's blood dripped from its edge.


	30. Prices

Darkness enveloped him. It devoured his limbs and crept at the edge of his vision. Where was he? Aedan struggled through the darkness about him, like through thick, swampy water.

"Aedan."

Aedan's mind reacted at once: his brain sent the signal to turn around and draw his sword. Yet his body moved in slow-motion. After far too long, he finally faced that voice. Marjolaine stared at him, blood streaming from her chest. Her fine Orlesian dress contrasted with the messy stain that dripped down her skirt. "That wasn't a very nice thing you did," she cooed. Her fingers traced the line of blood. "Leliana won't be pleased."

"I thought I taught you better, Aedan," whispered his mother from behind, "we're not brutes. We're Couslands. We follow the law, not go out and be vigilantes."

"I didn't mean to!" Aedan turned around again to see his mother frowning at him, shaking her head. "I didn't mean to," he whispered a little quieter.

"Then you should have been stronger. Faster. Then you could have easily taken her in." Her words stung, and Aedan couldn't meet her stern gaze.

A chuckle arose from the dark. "It's okay, son. You did what you had to."

Aedan turned to the familiar voice. His father stood before him, as happy and vibrant as Aedan remembered from his youth. His hair hadn't even greyed yet.

"Really? It's okay, Father?"

"Of course." Bryce Cousland placed his hands on Aedan's shoulders and warmly smiled. Aedan breathed easier and his body relaxed.

"No more fear, Aedan." His father's tone darkened. "It's time to stop half-assing this job of yours." Bryce's fingers pierced the flesh of Aedan's shoulder. Warm blood spilled down his shirt. Aedan howled and struggled from his father's hold. The fingers dug in deeper. From the bog of darkness the bodies of his other family members rose. Fergus, Oren, Oriana, and Nan all rose from behind the grim visage of his parents. They surrounded him with accusing eyes, blank and dead.

"What- what are you-"

"You really think you can protect anyone like this?" whispered his father. The man's face rotted and peeled. Blood trickled from a gash on his neck and wounds on his side. Empty eye sockets peered at him. The scene shifted into what the Sloth Demon had shown him in the Fade. The decrepit dead clawed at Aedan and dragged him to the black depths. Aedan flailed as the specters of his past shouted at him.

"You could have saved us-"

"Wasting our sacrifice-"

"I was only eigh-"

Their words stung more than any sword ever could. Aedan whirled from person to person, sweat dripping down his face. "I didn't- I couldn't-"

"A man can only protect so many things," echoed Bryce as the darkness swallowed Aedan, "So stop protecting your enemies."

* * *

Aedan shot up out of his bedroll. He gasped for air and patted down his shoulders for wounds. When he found none, he slumped back onto the ground. He closed his eyes, yet he knew doing so was futile. Any drowsiness had dissipated. Grumbling, Aedan threw on his ragged shirt and walked out to the campfire. Only Zevran sat by the flames; Alistair was supposed to be on guard duty as well, but Aedan could hear the templar snoring from his own tent. He made a mental note to chide Alistair on that.

"Can't sleep?" slithered Zevran. The elf had an uncanny ability to get under Aedan's skin.

"How can you tell?" asked Aedan, rubbing his eyes.

"Expression. The bags under the eyes. The sweat on your forehead." Zevran smiled, "Granted you look almost just like this after your nightly sessions with the witch. You're just smiling more then."

Aedan sat in front of the fire and chewed on his jerky, staring away from Zevran. "You got anything to drink?"

"Vodka." Zevran tossed the bottle to Aedan. The warden uncorked the bottle, took a big swig, cringed, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He passed the bottle back to Zevran.

"You want to talk about it?"

"No," stated Aedan, in a manner quite reminiscent to his qunari companion. He chewed and mulled over his thoughts.

His killing of Marjolaine had been instinctive and impulsive. He knew that he had done the right thing to save Leliana, but Marjolaine's death still left Aedan feeling sick. He wasn't used to the feel of his sword piercing flesh.

Had Howe's decision been as impulsive? Had the allure of money and power made the man snap and betray his friends? How about Loghain? It still baffled Aedan, how Loghain could have left Cailan, his best friend Maric's son, to die. Yet part of Aedan understood. Loghain had made a hard choice: risk losing all of Fereldan's troops, or die with his king with honor.

Aedan tried his best not to think about it the decisions he too would one day have to make. He asked aloud, "Does it get easier?"

Zevran looked into the distance. "Over time. Your hands stop trembling. You don't feel numb afterwards. There are even those that come to enjoy the thrill."

"Like you?"

"I was brought up in killing from a young age on the streets of Antiva. Not all of us had such a pampered lifestyle, Warden. I never really understood the significance of killing until I was older. By then, sticking daggers in people was as natural as tying my shoes." Zevran puffed his chest out proudly. It confused Aedan that someone would take such pride in such a childhood, yet Aedan reminded himself that not all were as lucky as him.

"I'm not naive." Aedan tore off the last piece of his jerky and stuffed it into his mouth. "I know that I'm going to have to kill people. I had just hoped that I could do it only when necessary- when it's the last option."

Zevran lay back on the wooden log and stared at the stars. "The last option isn't necessarily the best option. What would you have done if you let Marjolaine live? You'd hand her over to the Fereldan government? On what charges? She covered her tracks; she had no evidence of crimes. If you let her go, she'd just hunt down Leliana again. My advice, Warden? Let go of the guilt."

"It's not a matter of survival," Aedan said, "It's a matter of right and wrong, of justice."

"Justice?"

"I used to think that the law was absolute. Yet unjust laws exist in this world. A long time ago, a king came into power, and told his serfs- 'This is the justice of the land.' But were those laws justice because of they truly were so, or because the king had the might to claim them as such? Was he a just man or a tyrant?"

Aedan continued to stoke the fire. He paused briefly, staring into the burning embers. Zevran too stayed silent.

"If you just live following another's code, then it's a shallow justice. You just assume it's right, but you don't actually know. You're just an empty husk following orders. Only when you've thought your code over and made it your own can you act with justice. And I chose my actions: I killed Marjolaine. So...it just got me thinking. That's all."

"It's just death. The more you think about it, the worse off you'll be."

Aedan looked down and leaned on his knees. "That's the point. I need to think about it. I'm supposed be a Grey Warden. I'm supposed to be protecting people. If I don't anchor myself to a code, to justice, then I'll lose sight of who I am and what I'm fighting for. I'll end up sacrificing too much: innocents, my friends, or myself. like Howe or Loghain. If that means I lose sleep over it, then I'll pay that price." Aedan looked over his bloodied sword and whispered, "I can't forget the value of a human life."

It was silent awhile. Zevran too took a swig from the bottle. Aedan gestured at the elf and the assassin passed the bottle back to the Warden. The two passed it back and forth for a bit before Zevran answered, "The Crows did not pay me to think, Warden. Only to kill. I don't really know what to say to that." Zevran offered a dirty rag to Aedan, motioning to his sword. Marjolaine's blood had begun to coagulate upon the blade. Aedan wiped down his sword with the rag.

Zevran yawned as he began to drift off to sleep. "Be careful not to let your thinking dull your blade. I see such potential in the way you fight. All your life you've held back your blows and avoided vital points. That sort of style takes a high degree of self-control. If you just went all out, imagine-"

The assassin's last words trailed off. Sleep took the elf. Zevran mumbled a few last words in his slumber and shivered. Aedan draped a blanket over the elf. After that, he sat awake by the fire, imagining.

* * *

_"What do you mean Victor was a decoy?"_

_Teharel silently cursed as his crutch hit the table leg. The elf had not adjusted well to life as a cripple. Hijaya chided him and moved the table a bit to the right and let him pass._

_"Let's be honest. The guy seems a bit like a dolt. I smashed him once in the face with my shield and the guy goes down. One, who lets themselves get hit in the face with a shi-"_

_Teharel playfully smacked Aedan in the face with a loaf of bread. "You're right, anybody who gets hit in the face with a shield is probably an idiot. Imagine if they got hit in the face with bread- they could never live it down." The elf grinned maliciously. Aedan grumbled at his own folly, but was glad Teharel wasn't too down. A limited life expectancy failed to dampen Teharel's spirit. Since his departure from Aedan's employment, Teharel had rejoined his daughter with her gardening business. Hijaya had procured a small booth in the Denerim Market for her goods, and the business experienced minor success. During the day she'd tend to the booth while Teharel managed the plants back at home._

_Occasionally, Aedan visited to check up and for Teharel to critique his sword-fighting form. Although Teharel could no longer spar with Aedan, the elf still had a wealth of knowledge to share with Aedan._

_Today, however, was the first time Aedan had brought the Adair business up since the incident._

_"Two, they sent him into the tournament with dozens of highly skilled knights and Teyrn Loghain against him. That's a suicide mission. They never intended him to actually kill the king. The question is...why fake an assassination?"_

_"Why indeed..." muttered Teharel, "I doubt that Victor was some sort of distraction to steal something from Bann Abelard's manor. After all, if they could sneak in several people under the guises of others, they could easily steal whatever they wanted."_

_"I think I'll wait outside. I don't want the baby to hear words like assassination and suicide mission," laughed Hijaya tersely. The elven woman gathered some gardening tools and headed outside, but not before handing Aedan a platter of something wrapped in leaves. "Try some. They're very good."_

_Aedan popped one into his mouth and chewed. The sweet, chewy center mixed with tiny bits of savory meat. The leaves added a small minty aftertaste. Aedan reached for another, but found that Teharel had already cleaned the plate off. The young man scowled at the elf with stuffed cheeks. After Teharel had finished chewing, he peered over at his daughter and sighed._

_"Truth be told, I don't think Hijaya's entirely comfortable with all this assassin with her and Jarat's baby on the way, she's even less so."_

_"You did give her quite a scare."_

_"Well, I guess it's my own fault for getting into this business anyways."_

_Since his visit with Adair, a question had been on Aedan's mind. Finally, Aedan found the courage to ask of Teharel,"Why...did you ever get involved with that group anyways? Didn't you think that what you were doing was..."_

_He trailed off, not wanting to offend the elderly elf. For a minute, the elf gazed off and ignored the question. Teharel answered, "Did I think it was wrong? It's complicated." He leaned back in his chair and began his tale:_

_"I needed the money. I had no practical market skills to speak of. So I took on odd jobs: security, third party merc groups, etc. Not particularly savory jobs, but I had a child to feed. Eventually, the nature of my employers landed me in jail after a job gone south. Some hooded men found me in a cell, asking me if I wanted to be free. I begged them to let me out so I could take care of my daughter._

_"And so they leaned opened the gate and handed me the most deadly sword I had ever seen. They told me that instead of helping criminals, I could help protect the peace, that I could help protect Hijaya. They said that some people needed to be eliminated to maintain the new peace after Maric's rise to the throne._

_"They told me...one hundred deaths so that thousands more could live in peace. Thousands dead so that nations could live in peace. Sometimes I wondered if one day they'd make us kill a nation to save the world._

_"And so I took on their assignments. We were a good team. Skilled, motivated, and full of bravado. While what we did was...debatable, our employers would send us a little something after each mission. They sent us a package, detailing how the mission had helped maintain peace, or who we had saved. They included addresses and names, so that we could go see it for ourselves._

_"But all that killing...all that blood. It gets to you. And it got to Adair first. He was the first one to have doubts about what we were doing. He said that we couldn't just kill innocents to save other people, that we didn't have the right. He said that we had forgotten what a human life was worth._

_"Adair tried to stop us after we burned down a village. We took him down, gave him to the authorities. The higher ups said that it was a good thing; now they had a scapegoat to pin all our crimes on then execute._

_"After that...I just felt sick whenever I plunged my sword into others on missions. Like I was shaving off bits of my soul. Adair's words had gotten to me._

_"So I quit. I promised never to tell a soul about what we did. I knew they had leverage on me; they could come after Hijaya anytime they wanted to. I kept all my money from missions and saved it, to make sure I could take care of Hijaya no matter what."_

_Teharel stared out the window, the sun beating down on both him and Aedan._

_"And that's what I don't get. Why is the best of us, Adair, doing all this?"_

* * *

_As Aedan approached the Cousland's Denerim estate, he saw a guardsmen in front of the gates, rather wearily complaining, "I said I have urgent business from the guard- can you just let me in?" He tugged at his hair in frustration._

_"I'm sorry, but none of the Couslands are h- oh Aedan, there you are." Nan waved at him from the estate gates as Aedan came up behind the guardsmen. "This guard is looking for one of your family."_

_"Actually, I'm specifically looking for him." The guard turned around to reveal a familiar face._

_Aedan shook the man's hand briskly. "Kylon, how are you?" he said. Aedan hadn't seen him since the Adair incident. The two entered the estate and made their way to the living room._

_"Quite well, considering I got credit for Adair's capture. My superiors were pleased as punch and I got a nice little raise." The constable plopped down on at Aedan's living room table and peered at the portraits around the room._

_"I get the feeling that you're not here for biscuits and tea."_

_"No I'm not. The crown's issued an order to the Denerim city guards: to begin investigating any potential threats to the crown among the nobles. The fact that the king's assassin was released by some unknown person has shaken them up."_

_"And you're here because?"_

_"Obviously, your father being the Teyrn of Highever, second only to the king, is near the top of the list. I don't suspect a thing from him, but the investigation had been ordered to be extensive. The fact that your family requested permission of Adair's custody has only further aggravated things."_

_"So you're here to investigate?"_

_"Officially, yes. I'm going to need a full account statement of your treasury and any sort of transactions your family's carried out. Obviously, if you can't find everything, I really don't care. Nobody really suspects your family; it's just a thorough investigation._

_"And unofficially?"_

_"I want your help," stated Kylon plainly. He leaned forward and addressed Aedan very business-like. "There are places that I cannot go, and information that I cannot get. Nobles are well protected by bureaucracy. There's a limit to how much I can investigate. You, however, are in the unique situation of being situated in the eye of the storm; talking and gaining access to nobles shouldn't be too hard for a Cousland."_

_"Why do people keep asking me to help them do dangerous things?" muttered Aedan beneath his breath, "This better not become a regular thing."_

_"Don't be crass. I know that you want to know who's behind all this assassin business just as much as I do. I'd give you access to the guard's evidence vaults and our written archives, as well as cooperating with you whenever needed."_

_Aedan crossed his arms, giving Kylon a stare. "I'm flattered, but isn't this doing me more of a favor than actually doing what's best for the case? There's probably better people to talk to about this- someone like Loghain or my father."_

_"In my opinion, the people who do the best work are personally invested in the case. I couldn't think of someone more invested than you. After all; the crooks are downstairs in your pantry and were after your friend."_

_"I don't think pantry is the right word; though it does seem to house a couple of nuts," chuckled Aedan, looking to Kylon to see if his joke got a rise out of him. Kylon stared back unamused. Aedan coughed into his hand and stared at a rather interesting speck of dust._

_"Well?" asked Kylon._

_Aedan didn't need to weigh the options. This threat needed to be dealt with; for his own safety, Teharel's, and both their families. "Where do we start?" Aedan replied._

_The guardsmen nodded in approval and pulled several parchments from his pack. "We've got a preliminary list of nobles to investigate. We've managed to narrow it down and eliminate those who are simply involved in petty crimes and bribery. We've found that the nobles on this list have been moving large sums of money. Granted, none of the higher nobles like your father and Loghain are on this list, but this sort of behavior is suspicious for any sort of noble."_

_Aedan thumbed through the list. Some of the names he recognized from dinner parties and meet-ups. No doubt that however was behind Adair and Victor had heard of their capture. If Aedan wanted to find out who it was, he and Kylon had to act fast before the perpetrator covered their tracks and the trail went cold._

_"We need to get all of these people together, in an environment where they won't be suspicious we're interrogating them."_

_The wild look across Aedan's face irked Kylon. Aedan rubbed his chin and grinned._

_"Up for a little party, Kylon?"_


	31. Ears

From nowhere, Leliana plopped down besides Aedan at the campfire. This marked the first time Leliana had interacted with Aedan since the Marjolaine incident. The warden scratched his forehead, at a loss for what to say. For a while the pair stayed silent, until Aedan mustered the courage to utter, "Leliana-"

Leliana smiled sadly and interrupted, "It's okay. She deserved it. She has wronged not only me, but others as well. She would have killed me at that moment if you didn't kill her." Despite her reassurances, Aedan could see that the incident had shaken her up; her smile still felt a bit terse.

"You didn't want her to die though."

She gazed a little bit past Aedan into the distance."Part of me wishes that we could have parted differently, or perhaps never at all. I remember when I could run from rooftop to rooftop, reveling in the life of a bard."

The two sat quietly. Aedan found no comforting words. He looked over to see her contemplating something whilst she played with the hem of her shirt.

"Have you ever...thought about what your life would be like if you weren't a Grey Warden?" whispered Leliana. "What you could have had?"

"I...Why ask me that?"

"I don't know." She laughed at her own question, "Sometimes I feel like you're too good at what you do.."

"Isn't that a good thing?" laughed Aedan back.

"You do so many difficult things, yet I can't seem to see it wear away at you."

"That's not a good thing?"

"I mean...you're only human though, yet I have to keep reminding myself of that. We all rely on you so much that we forget about that." Leliana reached over and held Aedan's hands in her own."It's okay to show a little weakness." Leliana squeezed slightly. Her soft skin contrasted with her dagger callouses.

For a few seconds, they stayed like that, until Aedan realized what was happening. Startled, Aedan shot up and withdrew his hand. "Don't know what you're talking about. Who the hell do you think I am? I'm a Grey Warden, fierce, strong, and invincible!" he stammered.

Aedan pounded his fist against his chest and mustered up the biggest grin he could. He winced standing up. One of Marjolaine's mercenaries had sliced him good in the leg. He hoped Leliana didn't notice, but a giggle escaped her and indicated otherwise.

"Another time then." Leliana waved herself off and retreated to her own tent. Aedan kept his grin until she had vacated. He eased himself back into his seat whilst massaging his leg wound. Perhaps if he hadn't been so concerned in sparing the mercenaries, this wouldn't have happened. What Zevran said the earlier night irked him: how much better he could be if he stopped holding back his blade. Could he afford to still fight mercifully, if his enemies only got stronger?

"And what was that all about? I heard some fool shouting something about being fierce and invincible. I half-expected to see Alistair, and yet lo behold twas you." Aedan turned around to see his favorite mage in his least favorite mood. Morrigan glared at him with arms crossed. Her eyes darted to his hands, then back at Aedan. "Perhaps his idiocy is now contagious."

Aedan turned back around, smiling. "Come to spend time with me? I'm touched."

Morrigan's face flushed. "I just felt like being awake. That's all." She sat down next to him and jabbed her hands out over the orange flame.

"Alright." Aedan, wary of impending anger, shifted a bit away from Morrigan.

Barely a whisper, came Morrigan's voice: "I do not like to share."

Aedan dropped the stick. Did he hear her right? "What?"

"Nothing." Morrigan, her arms still crossed, avoided Aedan's face and looked up at the night sky. Her foot tapped against the ground. A tight-lipped frown across her face sealed her words.

_Was she watching Leliana and I?_

"I heard you. Is this about-"

"No, it's not."

Silence ensued. Aedan stared at her, but her blank expression revealed nothing. The warden grumbled and turned away. "Alright then."

A few minutes passed before Morrigan muttered, "If you have problems, you can talk to me about them."

Aedan raised his eyebrow at Morrigan. So she had eavesdropped. "What brought this up?" Despite asking the question, he doubted that Morrigan would dare admit her eavesdropping. Still, it'd be fun to pull a salty reaction out of her. Aedan stifled a smile as Morrigan's frown grew.

The witch said, "You have helped me in the past." She brushed aside a stray lock of dark hair and avoided eye contact. "Tis only fair, after all, you are not as emotionally well rounded as me. It seems you need people to hold your hand."

"Pretty sure I'm more in control of my emotions then you."

Morrigan whipped around. She stared at him for a few seconds in disbelief, before she covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. Aedan's smile soured.

"Shhhh. No need to lash out," cooed Morrigan. She pressed her finger to Aedan's lips, which certainly surprised him. This seemed like the kind of joke Alistair would make. Maybe his humor really was contagious.

"I'm serious," said Aedan.

"And I believe you." Morrigan nodded up and down, still stifling her giggles."Coming from the man who lets teary-eyed innocents sway his decision making, in and out of battle. Please sir, my village is under attack, save us!"

Aedan glared back. "This coming from the woman who's jealous."

Morrigan's smile vanished faster than Aedan could react. She focused an unholy stare at Aedan."Excuse me?" Her teeth ground together ever so slightly.

"You heard me." Aedan leaned forward and smirked at Morrigan's irritation. Morrigan spelt out her next sentence with punctuations of rage. "Choose. Your. Next. Words. Carefully."

"You're also a very angry person," teased Aedan.

Usually Morrigan would storm off in a huff, but something about Aedan's words infuriated her in a different way. Her hand shot out and twisted his ear. "Owowow!"

Morrigan huffed in satisfaction at his pained cries. Glaring at her, Aedan tugged on her wrist. Morrigan stumbled onto his chest and their limbs intertwined. Morrigan's face hovered above Aedan's smug expression.

"Granted, I like it when you're angry." He tightened his arm around her waist. Aedan wondered if she might set him on fire, judging by her clenched teeth and striking hand raised above her head. He could feel Morrigan's hot angry breath and her racing heartbeat against his chest.

Morrigan seethed for a few moments and glared into his eyes, before plunging in for the kiss. For a few heated moments, the two forgot their surroundings. Morrigan's body relaxed and melded onto Aedan's. Their lips, angry and fevered, fought whilst their tongues danced with one another. Caught up in their passion, the two neglected to breathe. Aedan pulled back for breath. Morrigan panted, letting her burning forehead rest on Aedan's. Her eyes fell on his hand. Her chest tightened at the memory of Leliana holding it. Before either could catch their breath, Morrigan wordlessly intertwined her fingers with Aedan's and dragged him to her tent.

* * *

_"Remind me...why aren't we throwing this at your place?"_

_Indeed, the banquet they currently stood in didn't belong to the Couslands, but another well-known Bann, Alfstanna. She had spared no expense for her birthday today. Lavish tapestries lined her estate's wall, imported straight from Orlais. At the center Bann Alfstanna mingled with her guests, with everyone coming to give her best wishes. Servants navigated the sea of nobles, offering little h'ordeuvres and spouting niceties. Aedan grabbed a little shrimp-biscuit combo off of one of the plates as they passed by and stuffed it into his mouth._

_"One," Aedan sputtered through his food, "my parents would never allow me to throw anything, ever. Two, if the host of the party all of a sudden starts asking suspected traitors to the crown a bunch of suspicious questions, they're going to smell what's up. We need to seem like ordinary party-goers. All the nobles from your list are here anyways." He savored the crisp buttery biscuit blending with the shrimp's flavor, and made a mental note to congratulate Bann Alfstanna. She was one of the nobles whose company he enjoyed. The feeling had been mutual apparently, as he had received an invitation for the event. From this invitation, Aedan forged copies and sent them to the nobles on Kylon's list._

_"And why am I here?" Hijaya turned to Aedan, who stretched out her dirtied apron. She scowled at the stains left on it. Aedan had arranged for her to join the kitchen staff for the night by bribing one of the staff._

_"We need to attack this from three angles: the nobles, their security, and their servants. Kylon, I need you to talk to the guards. All the nobles bring at least one of their own for protection. See what you can get out of them. Bond over badmouthing your employers or something."_

_"Yes, I can talk about how that Cousland brat is a continual pain in the ass."_

_"Ignoring that- Hijaya, I need someone to get in with the servants and see if their employers are up to something. Ask if anybody suspicious has been by their castles, or large troops movements. Anything."_

_"And let me guess, you get to drink all the fancy wine and mingle with the nobles. What a hard knock life." Kylon plucked a glass from a neighboring waiter, as it might be the only one he'd get that night._

_"If only, Kylon. While the rest of the nobles get hammered, I'm going to be sipping this little glass of grape juice. Sobriety helps give you one over on buzzed people." He raised his glass to Kylon and Hijaya and sipped. He made sure not to spill over his formal wear, which had cleaned just for this occasion. His parent had imported the outfit straight from Antiva, and he rather liked it. While many chose to go with lush and elaborate designs from Orlais, Aedan enjoyed the understated designs and simple cuts of Antiva._

_"And you're sure this will help my father?" Hijaya eyed the nobles surrounding them, her shoulders hunched forward and rubbing one hand against her arm. Some of the nobles eyed her with disdain, wondering what business a kitchen elf had on the main floor._

_"It's the best lead we have, Hijaya," reassured Aedan, patting her on the arm. "If you're uncomfortable, you can always leave. I'll find another way."_

_"It's alright. I'm just not sure being around all these...humans." Hijaya quickly turned back to Aedan, flustered and waving her hands in front of her. "No offense! It's just not everyone is quite as amicable to us as you." She did a slight bow and scampered along the wall to the other side of the main hall, the gazes of the nobles overpowering her composure._

_"I'm surprised that a noble boy like you has elvish friends." Kylon scanned for some guards to converse with. "I expected you to be a bit more...snobbish, to be honest."_

_Aedan laughed half-heartedly and scratched his forehead."Well, I wasn't exactly the most tolerant child. I used to throw out words like 'knife-ear' and insult the servants. One day, my mother heard me and smacked me on the head. She told me 'during the Fereldan uprising, elves rose up and fought alongside everyone else for Fereldan's freedom. They've bled just as much for this country.'"_

_"And that changed your mind? Just like that?"_

_"Of course not." Aedan sipped his drink and eyed a pretty daughter of a noble passing by. "After that I went and kicked an elvish servant we had in the balls. But eventually, I matured a little bit and saw what my mother tried to drill into my head. They're just like us. They laugh. They cry."_

_He peered over the crowd at Hijaya, who carefully covered her stomach when a nearby waiter zoomed by her. Her stomach did not yet bulge from her pregnancy. He smiled at her concern for her unborn child. She hastily opened the kitchen door and scurried inside._

_"They have families, just like me." Aedan downed the last of his glass and set it down on the nearby table._

_"Good to see your parents did at least one thing right."_

_"What do you mean 'one thing'?"_

_"Could've taught you to stay out of trouble."_

* * *

"And why might it be in such a chipper mood today, Warden?" Shale swatted at a sparrow in the sky. It flew away and perched among one of the many trees of the Brecilian Forest.

Aedan beamed. Perhaps the golem was actually warming up to him. "Well thanks for asking, Sha-"

"I am not actually asking, Twas sarcastic, and a follow-in to me asking it to keeps its acts of ….I'm not whether to call it affection or aggression... inside of it's tent. Please be aware that I am awake at all times."

"Sorry about that, won't happen again, Shale." He glanced over at Morrigan, whose attention had been preoccupied by the lush scenery of the forest.

Quite different from her swamp. Hope she enjoys it.

He couldn't help but smile when looking at her. His time with Morrigan was fun, both in and out of the tent- even their arguments.

"Hmph. The stupid grin on its face suggest otherwise." Whilst Aedan tried to conceal his expression, Shale stomped over to where Gregory was barking up a tree. Shale took one step, and the sound of a trigger shot through the air. A net pulled up from beneath Shale's foot. Ordinarily, such a net would surround its target and tangle it within its grasp. Shale's mass however pinned the net down. "An ambush. Hurrah," drawled Shale. It shook the net from its foot and sighed.

"Halt, traveler!" A elven archer clad in intricate, woven leather armor strode from behind the trees. Her bow had been drawn. Her arrow now pointed directly at Aedan's forehead. An armada of elves perched in the trees all drew out their bows, each one pointing at a different member of Aedan's troupe.

"Wow. People really love us," sighed Alistair, shoulders slumped. The elfs, taken aback by his lack of fear, exchanged glances with one another.

"Our clan lies ahead, and I would not have you enter the premises." The woman let out a low growl as Aedan raised his hands and smiled. In as friendly and gentle a tone he could, he said, "We were actually looking for the Dalish."

"Wipe that sly smile from your face shemlen," spat back the elf, stepping forwards. Her eyes narrowed. She drew her arrow further back.

"Sly?"

"We are taught that men of weaponry do not compare to those who are sly like the Dread Wolf."

Aedan eliminated his smile and shot his gaze upon the leader in front of him. He had to be careful to focus his gaze and not look at the elves in the trees, lest they think he was assessing the battle situation. Still, out of the corner of his eye he marked down all their positions in his head.

"We're Grey Wardens," he stated matter of factly, exchanging his friendly tone for one more business like. "We're here on matters of the Blight."

"A likely story. You seem more a pack of mercenaries. Come to pray on our wounded, have you?" The elf tightened her grip on her drawstring. Wary of danger, Aedan ground his heel into the ground, signaling Morrigan. The witch began focusing her power in her hands, in case she needed to deflect arrows from everyone.

"All we wish to do is talk to your leader. Feel free to keep your arrows on us. We're not going to cause trouble."

The elf pondered Aedan's request. Another warrior sprinted to her and whispered in her ear. After awhile, the leader signaled all the archers in the tree, and they all lept down. Like falling leaves, they landed silently. The female elf nodded backwards and backed up to allow Aedan's group passage. Her bow never let up. "One wrong move, shem." Her eyes continued to track the group.

The Dalish had erected large woven tents had throughout the forest area. It seemed they had picked a natural clearing, as despite the wide open spaces, Aedan saw no tree stumps indicating cut down trees. He felt the eyes of the elves watching him as he walked through the entrance to the camp. There statues of elven gods stared back at him. Teharel had mentioned the elven pantheon, but Aedan forgotten it: He wasn't much of a religious man.

It felt different then the Alienage with it's chatter and crowded streets. Here, although many elves resided, they all stood scattered throughout the clearing. An elven mother pulled her child away from Aedan's path and held her close. She muttered something under her breath as he passed.

Zathrian stood out amongst the others; whereas his brethren either cowered away or looked at Aedan with anger, the keeper leaned casually against a caravan. When Aedan finally entered hearing range, the elf half-heartedly greeted, "Andaran atish'an stranger-"

Zathrian examined Aedan, and cocked his head in surprise. Aedan too felt minor surprise upon recognizing Zathrian.

"You," they both uttered simultaneously.

"Do you know him Aedan?" asked Alistair,

"Yes, one of my friends, a former Dalish, passed away several years ago. Zathrian's clan was nearby so he came to perform the funeral rites. I'm surprised you remember me, Zathrian."

"It is not often that a human attends the funeral of an elf. It is even less common that they are the ones asked to bury the body. Tis usually a privilege reserved for close family members."

Zathrian conveyed a rather cold look. Aedan had remembered him as cold during Teharel's funeral as well. He couldn't tell whether Zathrian harbored disapproval or simply ambivalence towards him. The keeper spoke calmly and tepidly, reminiscent of older people Aedan had met, yet the keeper didn't seem older than forty.

"It seems fate has crossed our paths yet again. What business do you have with us?"

"I'm a Grey Warden now, and I've come to gather forces to fight the darkspawn." Aedan pulled out one of the ancient treaties. Zathrian held up each of the elven signatures to the light. "I see...and signed by all the clans at an Arlathvhen." Zathrian returned it to Aedan and sighed. "Warden, under any other circumstances, I'd honor this contract, but we simply can't. Our warrior are in no shape to fight right now."

Zathrian pointed him to writhing bodies of their warriors. The lay bloodied on stretchers, trying their best to hold back their screams as the healers attended to them. Claw marks cut through their armor. Aedan wondered what manner of beast could break their armor.

"A curse has attacked our clan. Werewolves ambushed us and keep us from moving on from these woods. Even if I wanted to, any troops I could spare you would not be able to leave this area."

"Why are they attacking?"

"Who knows. They are wild beasts, driven mad by their thirst for blood. Perhaps they have tired of small forest animals and now hunger for something more substantial. Like any wild beast, they need to be put down."

Zathrian nodded once and stared Aedan straight in the eyes. Aedan wondered why Zathrian didn't just ask for his help directly. Perhaps pride kept him from asking an human. Whatever the case, Aedan got the unsaid message.

"Clear out the werewolves and I get my troops. Got it."

"It's not that simple, shemlen. You need to bring back the heart of their leader, Witherfang. Without it, I cannot lift the curse on the wounded and get them back to fighting shape."

"Clear out werewolves plus one and I get my troops. Got it. Any other details?"

"Aedan."

Aedan raised his eyebrows, surprised. It was either "shemlen" or "Warden" with Zathrian so far. The keeper took a deep breath. His voice trembled. "These...monsters...they hurt my clan. My family. Do not mistake them for anything else except what they are." His eyes narrowed and the keeper clenched his staff. It's end dug into the ground.

"They need to be put down," seethed Zathrian.


	32. Withheld

"So...werewolves. Are we ever going to fight anything...normal?"

"I have shit luck, Alistair, so probably not."

"Is it too much to ask that somebody asks us to eliminate a village of marshmallow people?"

"In a better world, my friend." The two warden sighed simultaneously, thinking of an easier world that alas, was not theirs.

Another branch flicked Sten in the face. The quiet giant growled and clawed it away. "How big is this damn forest?" complained Sten. As one of the taller members, this branch had not been the first to hit him. He snapped it off and tossed it aside.

"Legend say that the Brecilian Forest is haunted." Leliana looked about, her eyes scanning every tree and river. "Many have come and yet some never return. Perhaps we walk upon their mangled bodies."

Aedan grimaced. "That's great, Leliana. And here I thought this was just a semi-haunted forest, not full-on haunted."

Something rustled in the distance. Everyone quieted and glanced at each other. Aedan unsheathed his sword with the utmost care to not make a noise against his scabbard. Just as he stepped forward, a blur lunged from the bushes and tackled Aedan to the ground. His sword fell out of his hand whilst the figure pinned him down. Monstrous eyes and razor sharp teeth stared back at him. It's dirtied, bloodstained fur smelt of pine and mud. Dextrous hairy fingers held down his wrists.

Before Aedan could say anything, the figure collapsed onto him. "You're welcome, Warden. Try to be a little more careful next time," said Zevran. The assassin pulled his dagger out of the creature's back. He wiped the blood on the creature's fur. "Hmm. This looks quite warm. I could use a new coat."

Still shocked, Aedan heaved deep breaths and shoved the creature off of him. Zevran offered his hand and hoisted the Warden up. "Damn things are faster than I thought they'd be." Aedan picked up his weapons, chiding himself for his lack of awareness. If Zevran hadn't been quicker, he might be dead now.

He looked down at the corpse beneath him. It's massive back and clawed hands and feet seemed monstrous, yet the creature had a distinctive humanoid-like shape, with long arms and legs to stand upright with.

"Must be one of the werewolves."

As if the forest didn't unnerve him enough, now Aedan had werewolves leaping out of nowhere. He drew out his sword, and as he advanced his eyes and ears twitched to and fro.

"So how exactly are these things made?"

"When a man werewolf and a lady werewolf love each other very muc-"

"Not what I meant, Alistair." Aedan shuddered at the thought of two werewolves going at it. "I meant curse-wise. Any ideas, Wynne or Morrigan?"

"Considering that he needs the heart of Witherfang, it must originate from it. I'm not familiar with Dalish magic, so I'm not sure how they'd make a cure from the heart. The opportunity to observe this Zathrian in action would be quite educational." Morrigan poked the werewolf corpse with her staff and rolled it over. It's face stared up at Aedan. The light had not yet left its eyes. Aedan shivered at the sight. Morrigan however merely opened the mouth with her staff, leaned in close, and squinted her eyes at the teeth.

"Quite sharp- sharper than any creature I've seen in the Wilds. You should not let it bite you. Even if you do not contract the curse, it'll pierce flesh and most leather armors." Morrigan smirked and patted Aedan on the shoulder. "As our fearless armored leader, that means you shall be leading the charge, yes? I am far too delicate to be on the front lines."

"Have you considered investing in something not so...prone to stabbing?"

"I believe you are the only one doing the stabbing there, Warden," snickered Zevran under his breath.

Ignoring Zevran (something which had become a habit), Morrigan scoffed at Aedan's suggestion. "And lumber around like you fools, dripping in sweat and tired after just walking for long periods?"

Aedan and Alistair looked at one another, the sunlight reflecting off their sweat-drenched foreheads. "It's just especially humid today," said Alistair.

"Fine, fine, do what you want, Morrigan. Just stay behind me then," sighed Aedan, drawing out his shield and leading with it forward. The group entered a large clearing, with a rushing waterfall greeting them. The mist from the falls obscured Aedan's vision. The splashing of the water and the rustling of the leaves masked too many noises.

"Well, seems simple enough," Alistair said, "Don't have to worry about blood mages or demon children. Get in, hunt some beasts, and get out."

To further welcome them, a horde of massive werewolves rose from the bushes and inched towards them. The death of their scout seemed to have made them cautious. "Fantastic." The templar brandished his sword. "They came to us."

Back to back the group stood at ready; for every one of Aedan's companions, three werewolves snarled back. They hissed and barked at them, circling around them and tightening their perimeter.

"Everyone, on my mark...three-"

Sten clenched his sword hilt. Wynne began chanting under her breath.

"Two-"

Shale smashed it's fists together and Zevran twirled his daggers.

"One-"

Leliana drew her arrow. Morrigan's hands alit. Alistair raised his shield in front of him.

"G-"

"Stop, my brothers!" snarled a voice from the forest.

Aedan whipped his head to the voice. A lone werewolf rushed in front of the pack, raising his hands. "We have no need to harm these ones! They are not the Dalish." The others barked back at him, but this werewolf, covered in scars and torn fur, growled back. It towered over the others by a good foot. The other werewolves stepped back, although they still eyed Aedan and his friends, drool dripping from their fangs.

The leader werewolf turned to Aedan and growled, pointing at their weapons. Aedan complied and sheathed his sword and shield.

"Warden, this is not-"

"Put the sword away, Sten. I'd like to see how this plays out."

Sten looked over at the leader werewolf and returned it's snarl. He begrudgingly strapped his sword to his back, still eyeing the surrounding enemy.

"Human," growled the werewolf. Glinting fangs bared at Aedan as the werewolf spat out it's words. "You are not the Dalish. You have no business here."

Still in the middle of processing this new development, Aedan stood dumbfounded for a few moments. "You talk," he whispered. Never when he had heard the tales of werewolves heard of them talking, nevertheless backing down from a fight. They had been the scary specters that his mother used to scare him away from the forest, never intelligent.

"Indeed. I am Swiftrunner, leader of this pack. We do not wish harm upon you; you have not wronged us. The Dalish are all that we have come for." He flicked his clawed hand to the north. "Leave."

Aedan narrowed his eyes. "He said that you were just wild beasts."

"Who?"

"Zathrien."

"Of course Zathrian would say that. He simply wants us dead."

"You attacked him first, of course he'd be angry."

"We...attacked him first?" The werewolf hissed and ground its fangs together. Swiftrunner's breathing quickened and his long fingers curled into a clenched fist. With each breath the muscled werewolf's chest rose up and down and Aedan feared he might need to unsheath his sword, but the werewolf widened his eyes in realization of his own anger. Swiftrunner clenched his eyes shut and took deep breaths. It seemed the werewolf suffered from an anger problem- or a human suffered from a werewolf problem. It was easy to forget that a werewolf was a man transformed into beast, especially so while his bruises from an earlier attack still ached.

"How very little you understand the situation, human. This is not your place to cause problems. Leave or we will kill you."

"I don't want anybody to get hurt. I just want to know what the hell is going on."

"Did you not hear us?" spoke Swiftrunner, his voice bristling, "Leave or we will kill you."

"Understand me, I'd love nothing more than to get out of both of you and the Dalish's hair, but I can't leave." Aedan tried to make eye contact with Swiftrunner. "Not until this is resolved."

The werewolf pointed at Aedan's throat and growled, "You have been given fair warning human. Next time we meet, I will not hesitate to rip out your throat." The creature dropped to all fours and scurried off into the shadows of the forest. The rest of his brethren took one last lingering look at Aedan and his group. They growled and hissed, but eventually they too left.

* * *

After the group had trudged their way back to the Dalish camp, Aedan ignored the hostile eyes of the guards and the stares of the civilians, and stomped straight to Zathrian. The keeper barely reacted to Aedan once the Warden, fuming, reached him. "Well?" he asked, still leaning against the caravan.

"They talk."

"Excuse me?"

Aedan thrust his finger at Zathrian and growled,"You lied to me. You told me they were just beasts. This one talked- it even had a damn name!"

"You shemlens are always so excitable." Zatgrian held his hands before him and waited for Aedan's irritation to subside. When it showed no sign of doing so, he sighed and continued, "I assure you Warden, I knew of no such thing, but I do not see what this changes."

"This changes the entire thing! I can't just march in and slaughter all of them."

"Why not? Just because they might be intelligent doesn't automatically give them the right to live. If anything, it's more damning. Those creatures  _chose_  to attack my brethren. Not only do they have the heart of beast, but the mind of one as well. They follow no rules."

"Couldn't we talk with them, find some way to parley?"

"When you have lived as long as me, Warden, then you'll understand. You cannot change the nature of a beast."

Aedan waited momentarily and bit his tongue. He needed to see if Zathrian would explain Swiftrunner's statement, that Zathrian had committed some wrong against them. Zathrian merely raised his eyebrow at Aedan's silence.

"Do not forget that without killing them, you cannot get your troops. What are the lives of several beasts in exchange for a nation's safety?"

Aedan glared. It seemed Zathrian would not explain the werewolves motives. "Very well. I'll kill them." He gestured for the group to follow him back to the forest's entrance. The angry glances of the elfs had intensified; apparently they disliked Aedan's brazen attitude towards their keeper.

"Wait a second, are we going to just kill all of them?" asked Leliana.

"No. I lied." Aedan looked back once at Zathrian, who although out of earshot still watched them. He knew something, but wouldn't tell. A grudge maybe? Or maybe something to do with the cure? Aedan scratched his chin and contemplated."Zathrian's not telling us something. Until we get the whole story, I want to avoid bloodshed."

"These creatures are beasts, Warden." Sten towered over Aedan and looked down upon him with a tinge of anger. "You saw with your own two eyes what it would've done to you if the elf had not killed it. We cannot risk our own safety in exchange for theirs. Do not waste our time on such frivolity."

Sten glared at Aedan from above, and Aedan returned back the hostility. After a few tense moments, Zevran squeezed himself between the two and piped in. "I agree with Sten here," piped in Zevran, "I don't care whether they sing or dance- these things need to die."

Sten nodded and gave what Aedan thought was a smirk. With Sten, only slight changes in his face meant many things.

"But the Warden is our leader, and he has not led us astray so far. Let us be cautious in our dealings with them. Just bang them on the head or something, okay, Sten?"

Aedan smirked back at Sten. The qunari pivoted and bumped against Aedan's shoulder as he passed by, with enough force to elicit a wince from Aedan.

* * *

_Hijaya tapped rapidly on Aedan's shoulder. The man turned around to see flecs of gravy splattered about her shirt. Aedan pointed at one of them and Hijaya groaned in response, "Don't ask."_

_"Fine. What's up?"_

_"I was talking to one servant, and she's been complaining about how her master has been away often, and he's been coming back moody and irritated, yet with strange packages in tow."_

_"Define strange packages."_

_"I don't know. They were just big, and he was carrying them by himself with no servants helping him. It seemed rather unusual to this servant."_

_"What's his name."_

_"Uh...Bann Aberpard I think?"_

_Aedan remembered him. He had impersonated Abelard's son at a tournament, the same one which Victor had been assigned to assassinate the king at. Aedan had ruled Abelard out of the equation since the people who had tried to bribe him (thinking him Abelard's son) had threatened Abelard's life._

_Aedan nodded Hijaya back to the kitchens and began to search through the crowd for the Bann. It didn't take long to find him; the man stood solitary, sipping a glass of wine with a dour expression._

_"It's so good to see you again Bann Abelard!" cried Aedan whilst approaching the Bann. Aedan suspected that the large movements of money of Bann Abelard went to fund his penchants for ladies of the night. Still, it couldn't hurt to check._

_"Ah yes, Aedan Cousland. Tis good to see you again," smiled the Bann. He set down his glass and picked up another from a passingby waiter."_

_"Any news on your son, Yates?"_

_"Unfortunately, no. I've given up the search for him. It's been a little over a year since he disappeared. If he wanted to be found, then I'd have found him by now."_

_"I'm so sorry." Despite being the one who facilitated Yate's departure, Aedan felt a pang of guilt, for he could see Bann Abelard's son's absence had taken its toll on him. The Bann had more wrinkles then he remembered, and streaks of white flowed through his previously full brown hair._

_Aedan smiled as sincerely as he could. "Let's not talk about such depressing things. What's been going on with you? Been up to anything interesting?"_

_"Well- oh! Teyrna Cousland. What a pleasure to see you here tonight."_

_Aedan's mother appeared from behind him and shook the Bann's hand warmly. Aedan's heart dropped and a bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. Since the run in with Adair, his mother had been suspicious of anything Aedan did: taking food to the dungeons, going over to Teharel's, even talking Gregory for a walk._

_"Ah yes. I wasn't aware my son would be attending. I usually have to force him to come to things like this." Eleanor twisted to Aedan smiling with utter malice and her eyes closed. For that, Aedan was thankful he couldn't see her eyes, for he might faint from the stare._

_"I wonder what brings him here." Aedan winced as his mother pinched him from behind. She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, before leaning into his ear. "Aedan," she seethed._

_"Mother," he whispered back, trying to maintain his calm smile._

_"What are you scheming?"_

_"Nothing, mother. Why would you think I'm scheming?"_

_"You have on your scheming look."_

_"Nonsense. I am just a gentleman out for a night on the town." Aedan clinked his glass against hers, then brought it to his mouth to sip._

_Eleanor gave him a dirty look. "Why are you drinking grape juice? Are you pregnant or something?"_

_Aedan sputtered out his drink. "This...this is wine, Mother. I am drinking wine because I am here enjoying myself." He did a little nervous laugh and sipped down the rest of it, lest his mother ask to sample. His mother crossed her arms and glared at him._

_"You are pretending to drink wine because you are scheming something. I am your mother. I know when my children are scheming."_

_Aedan pecked his mother on the cheek and whispered, "I love you too, Mother," before hiding into a crowd of nearby nobles. Once he had located Bann Abelard again, he tapped the man on the shoulder and asked: "Ah Bann Abelard, I just had a quick question I wanted to ask you, before I let you go for the evening."_

_The man gave one too many nods and stumbled slightly sideways. He hadn't had restrained when chugging the drinks. "Certainly, Aedan."_

_"Will you be attending the execution?"_

_"What execution?" Bann Abelard cocked his head sideways and furrowed his brow._

_"Ah, you didn't hear. Remember? King Maric's assassin? His name was...what was his name?" Aedan feigned ignorance and scratched the side of his head._

_"Victor, I believe," nodded the Bann, "And yes, I'll be there."_

_"Good talking to you, Bann Abelard," said Aedan. Whilst the Bann stumbled off, Aedan eyed him with suspicion._

_They had never released Victor's name to the public._


	33. Stand

_Aedan strode up to Bann Abelard, a list of possible topics in hand. He thought of asking back-handedly about Victor: what the Bann knew about him, or any sort of information the Bann might accidentally let slip. He couldn't just hand him over to Kylon right this second; the very reason Kylon had come to him was to weasel information out of nobles, not force Kylon to reserve an interrogation room. Even worst, Bann Abelard might be sent to Fort Drakon, where Maker knows what would happen to him there. Aedan hoped he'd never have to visit that accursed place._

_To his surprise, he found the sweaty palmed Bann rushing towards him, rather impolitely pushing himself through the crowd. The man panted and clasped Aedan shoulders with his hands._

_"I need to get out of here," he stammered, darting around, "Can you get me out of here?"_

_"What?"_

_"Can we talk about this later? Those men are going to kill me!"_

_"Which men?"_

_Shattered glass rained down from the ceilings as several armed figures dropped in from outside._

_"That was convenient timing," muttered Aedan under his breath, who pulled Bann Abelard towards the kitchen. He and the Bann hid behind the door while they watched through a crack._

_Some guards pulled masks over their heads and smashed their fists against the back of their comrades' heads. In a blink of an eye, all the guards had either been tied up and thrown into the cellar (including Kylon), or had joined the intruders in their masked revelrie. Aedan noted a distinct Orlesian design to their masks. It didn't surprise him, since only Orlais made masks worth wearing._

_"Well well well, a bunch of nobles sipping their wine and eating their fancy shrimps. Never seen that before."_

_One man, clad in plate gauntlets and with a cloak draped over him, stepped into the crowd of nobles toward Bann Alfstanna. The man threw his cloak off to reveal an array of swords and knives. He bared one of them towards Bann Alfstanna and chuckled, his thick Orlesian accent echoing through the chamber._

_"This is a robbery. Move and we'll slice your heads off."_

_Several noblewomen squealed in horror as the rest drew their weapons and began patting down the attendees. With brute force they tore off noblewomens' jewelry and snatched their bags from them. Trembling, none of the nobles tried to resist, save for Bann Alfstanna's furious expression._

_"You think you can just barge into my manor and take us hostage?" She shoved the leader backwards and growled. The Orlesian man snickered and flicked away Bann Alfstanna's hand._

_While the attackers perused the goods of the nobles, a familiar hand grabbed Aedan from behind._

_"Mother," greeted Aedan without turning his head from the unfolding scene. He glanced once behind him though to check that she was alright; both she and Hijaya had thought it safe to hide out in the kitchen as well. Unnerved, Hijaya ticked her teeth against one another and fidgeted in place. Eleanor however remained calm and looked at Aedan for answers; she knew the difference between when she should be scolding her son and when she should be listening._

_"Does this have something to do with our prisoner?"_

_Aedan smiled. She caught on quickly. "Mother. I need you to get Bann Abelard out of here. The man's probably going to piss himself. Hijaya, go with her and stay out of trouble."_

_The young man leaned back over the door and peeked out at the attackers Some of them had begun patrolling near the kitchen door. Aedan signalled to his mother and other others to get ready. His mother patted her son on the arm and lingered there._

_"You're sure about this?"_

_Aedan grimaced. "This...is something I have to do, Mother."_

_His mother nodded in understanding. Aedan smiled at this, then took a deep breath. Two mercenaries were passing by the kitchen door. As loud as he could Aedan kicked open the kitchen door and knocked the two to the ground._

_"Shit!" shouted Aedan extra loud so that the mercenaries on the far side of the room could hear him. "It's not safe here, Bann Abelard! Down the hallway!"_

_The leader whirled around to Aedan's voice. The young noble grinned. If they thought that Bann Abelard was with him, they'd follow and keep their focus on him, while his mother and Hijaya sneaked the Bann out. While they took the side door through the kitchen to navigate through the servant quarters, Aedan burst through the opposite door with the attackers in pursuit._

_"After him!" screamed the Orlesian, his sword raised as he motioned all his troops to pursue Aedan. The noble hadn't expected all of them to pursue him; at least now the other nobles could flee, but now twenty-five armed men chased after him._

_Aedan ran as fast as his legs could take him._

* * *

"I sort of expected it to be bigger!"

Alistair lept to the side whilst the dragon spat flame. It grazed the tips of his boots and seared the metal. A blood-curdling shriek erupted from it's scaley mouth. Upon entering the main chamber of the elven ruins, the dragon had soared down from it's perch, protective of it's stash. Aedan wondered why a dragon would work so hard to protect gold that held no value to it.

"Tis not fully grown. A High Dragon would be much, much larger," commented Morrigan, who circled the dragon. The air around her hands chilled as she shot bolts of ice. While Morrigan distracted the dragon, Aedan ran from behind to surprise it, yet the dragon's ears perked up at the sound of Aedan's jingling armor. A scaly claw collided with Aedan's chest and he staggered backwards. The dragon snapped it's neck at Aedan, who yanked his head back. The jaws barely missed Aedan's helm. Aedan grabbed the dragon by the jaws and clutched them together.

"Let's debate on whether or not this is a proper dragon later." Aedan kicked his sword over to Alistair, while struggling to keep the dragon from opening it's mouth. Smoke billowed from it's nostrils and the mouth felt hot to the touch. It's claw crashed into Aedan's face and knocked his helm clean off of him. Dazed, Aedan lost his footing. The dragon shook Aedan back and forth, and the warden felt himself lifted off the ground.

"I'd like a little help now!" he screamed, kicking the dragon's neck whilst he flailed in the air.

Alstair lept onto the dragon's back and plunged the sword right below it's neck. The dragon stumbled and collapsed to the ground. Aedan released his hold and rolled down of the neck, whilst Sten and Alistair cleaved at the creature. As Sten sunk his blade deep into it's heart, the dragon shrieked towards the sky mournfully, letting one last wisp of flame escape.

Aedan stared at the creature, slumped dead on the ground. He winced as he rubbed a fresh bruise. "Remind me never to grab one of those things by the mouth again."

Frankly, Aedan tired of this entire forest, these elven ruins, and this entire quest Zathrian had sent him on. Undertaking this with no background information, Aedan felt like Zathrian was using him like a blunt instrument.

The werewolves could talk; Aedan had seen that in the forest, and when he had first attempted to enter their lair. The entire time, they talked of "protecting their lady." Aedan's group had not yet killed any of the werewolves in the ruins yet, and Aedan did not savor the idea. The more they spoke, the more and more Aedan questioned who the real monster was: Zathrian, for refusing to acknowledge the werewolves, or the werewolves, who seemed almost feral save for their occasional bouts of speech.

Or perhaps him, the blunt instrument. He had told Zevran he didn't want to kill unless absolutely necessary. The decision had to be made whether to kill all the werewolves to get Witherfang's heart. That was the only way to get the elves to honor the contract. Whether or not it was a just decision was still unknown.

What am I willing to do to get these troops? To stop the Blight?

Such thoughts plagued Aedan while he exited the large central chamber that had held the dragon. The elven ruins winded and burrowed further underground. Aedan had believed only the dwarves could make such intricate, underground structures, but it seemed the ancient elves differed much from the current ones. Normally, torches would have lined the wall of any decent underground facility, but it seems this one had been long abandoned. As such, any torches still bolted to the walls had long ago been eaten away at by insects. One such scurried along the ground.

The group continued navigating the labyrinth until they came to a fork: the path diverged three ways, each one leading into darkness.

"Let's split up- a mage to each party to light the way, and for the one without, Shale can just substitute with crystals."

Aedan, Morrigan, and Zevran headed down the rightmost path, whilst the others took the other two paths. Morrigan raised her hand and a small wisp of flame arose from her fingertips. Despite the light, Aedan could only see a flicker of Zevran's and Morrigan's face. Morrigan raised her finger to her lips, and nodded further down the hallway. The other two nodded in understanding: stealth might give them the edge there.

The sheer darkness made Aedan grind his teeth together. Having to walk down the hallway, barely being able to see ahead of him, unnerved him. He peered at Zevran, who seemed unaffected; he strode along, business-like as usual. Morrigan too advanced with such calm, but with a more reluctant, or perhaps careful, step than Zevran.

Morrigan turned her hand. Aedan noticed the glint of the fangs and the inaudible brush of fur against the wind too late. A blur knocked Morrigan to the ground, and the light in her hand extinguished.

"MORRIGAN!"

Without even thinking Aedan grabbed his shield in both hands and slammed his shield into the back of the werewolf's head. A sickening crunch of bones echoed through the hallway, followed by the collapse of the limp creature onto Morrigan. Aedan hurled the body off of her and cradled her in his arms. Without her fire, he could see nothing. He patted her down desperately trying to what the werewolf had done. He felt blood streaming from her upper chest along her left shoulder. Jagged bits of flesh lined the bite trail around her arm. His fingers traced the deeper gashes from the creature's claws. His chest twisted and gripped her tighter.

Morrigan shivered in his arms, muttering something under her breath. It seems upon falling she had hit her head. Aedan heard a howl further down the hallway: the werewolves had heard his outburst. Aedan clenched his teeth as he looked down at Morrigan, growing colder and bleeding. He had to make a decision quick. He motioned Zevran over, who took Morrigan from his arms. Aedan, trembling from the shock and his arms slicked with the witch's blood, almost dropped her.

"Warden-"

"Get her back to Wynne, I'll hold them off for now! They're probably lurking in the shadows aroun-"

A werewolf tackled Aedan to the ground. Still looking at Zevran, Aedan struggled to wrangle the beast off of him."Go!" he yelled, right before the werewolf headbutted him. Now the elf ran with such ferocity Aedan could finally hear his footsteps as he fled down the hall, Morrigan in tow.

Now alone, Aedan whipped around and smacked the werewolf square in the jaw. The beast staggered backwards. Aedan drew his sword and made a motion to slice the creature, but his sword hesitated as he swung. In that split second, the creature slashed at his arms, knocking out Aedan's weapons. Pain shot through his forearms.

"I will not allow you to harm the Lady!" the beast growled, before lunging at Aedan once again. It pinned Aedan against the wall. Ancient stones gave way as hands burst forth and grabbed Aedan from behind. Aedan struggled to pry himself from their grip, but to no avail. His sword and shield lay helplessly on the ground, whilst the angry breaths of the werewolves grew closer.

"I don't want to hurt you...we can talk this out," he said, still not ceasing his struggling. His eyes darted about, trying to count out how many surrounded him, but could see nothing without light. Only the werewolves' vicious eyes stared back at him.

Aedan's heart beat against his chest while the werewolf leaned in and stared at him. It had paused- was it considering his offer? Aedan and the werewolf looked eye to eye, and for a brief moment Aedan thought he saw the snarl soften. Yet the moment passed, and the werewolf glanced at Aedan's sword and shield, and contorted it's face in rage. Aedan struggled forwards, trying to push against what remained of the walls with his legs, but to no avail. The werewolf behind had looped his monstrous arms under Aedan's armpits.

"Lies!" it roared, "Zathrian showed us no mercy, and we shall show none to those who follow him!" As it's mouth opened up to strike, Aedan made out in the darkness it's bared teeth, ready to tear him to shreds. Saliva dripped from it's mouth.

How many times had he seen this? The edge of a blade pressed to his throat? A mace hurtling towards him? How many times had death stared him down?

"You got a lady to protect?"

Aedan reached down into his side pack with both hands. In one hand, he pulled out Nan's knife and swung it backwards. In the other, he grasped a firebomb; the liquid inside shook and bubbled as Aedan grabbed the corked end and swung it at the werewolf's head. He snarled back and gritted his teeth.

"I've got an entire nation."

His knife sunk into the werewolf behind him first, sinking into the eye. The werewolf staggered backwards, allowing Aedan to pick up his shield. The glass of his vial shattered against the other's head, and an explosion rocked the corridor. The explosion tore away at Aedan's armor and threw him against the stone wall.

Warm blood trickled from his mouth and his jaw ached. Aedan wobbled up, a ringing noise pounding in his head. He wiped the charred bits of werewolf flesh and shattered glass from his helm. The man winced:a bloodied fang had lodged itself in his arm. The werewolf's still burning corpse illuminated the approaching werewolves. Before they could attack, Aedan charged forward shield first, knocking a path through their lines.

_Neck._

Aedan's blade swung. A werewolf head thudded to the ground, followed by its body.

_Heart._

As Aedan's sword arced from it's recent victim's neck, blood flung from its tip and splattered against the wall. Aedan impaled his sword into a werewolf's heart. Gritting his teeth, he smashed the beast down with his shield, lest it muster any remaining attacks.

"Kill him! Kill him!"

Aedan stabbed and stabbed. The smell of burnt flesh rose into his helm, so he tried to breath through his mouth. Blood gurgled as he panted. All he could feel was the blood searing against his veins and blows of the werewolf's against his shield till his arm went numb. The faint outlines of the werewolves dropped one by one, illuminated by the burning corpse. More and more blood splattered against it, slowly killing the flame, until only darkness remained.

Another one tore at his back. Aedan gritted his teeth as the claws tore through his skin.

_Can't die here. Won't die here. Still have work to do._

He kicked backwards right into it's chin. Whilst it staggered back, he spun around and leaned into his thrust. It pierced below the creature's jaw and through the top of his head. Aedan kicked the body off and yanked his sword from the flesh, letting the force carry into his next blow; his sword cleaved at the necks of two werewolves that lunged from the side. Their blood sprayed against Aedan's visor. Several werewolves backed off and fled, screaming to their companions, "Stay back! He will kill us all!"

Aedan whirled around. Nothing at this back. He turned around again. Nothing on his sides. Panting and bleeding, Aedan's fingers pressed against the ancient, dusty walls as limped his way back to the others. While leaning on the walls, a panel gave way. He could hear the gears and pulleys turn behind it. The panel hissed, then retracted upwards, revealing a spiral stairway downwards. Peering inwards, Aedan heard the echoes of werewolves retreating back down. Perhaps this is where their "Lady" lay in wait. What kind of woman might she be, to be able to tame such...creatures? Not exactly beasts, but not exactly human either.

"Aedan! Are you- Maker!"

"What?" Aedan, still a bit dizzy from all the fighting, wasn't sure what Alistair was doing. It seemed like the man had made the gesture to help him stand, but stopped before he touched Aedan.

"What's wrong?"

Alistair didn't answer, as if the answer was obvious. He made a sour expression and opened his mouth to say something, then held back his words.

"Morrigan, is she alright?" Aedan rushed to Morrigan's side. It seemed the witch had recovered; she stood up with no help, and looking no worse for the wear save for some of her blood drenched in her robes, and a bandage wrapped around the side of her head and her right arm. Aedan grabbed her by the shoulders and leaned in close, examining her face and head. On second thought, she looked paler, and her arms felt cold to the touch. It seems she had lost some blood, but could still stand.

"You're...alright," he sighed.

"Tis good Zevran got her to me in time. She had head trauma and a lot of blood loss, so I managed to stabilize her with some magic and herbs." Wynne leaned over him and began to do the same healing for Aedan as well. "I suggest she not cast anything too intensive lest she strain herself too much."

Aedan smiled and turned back to face Morrigan. He leaned his forehead against hers and sighed in relief. He could feel her arms fidget in his hands. "You are too close," she mumbled, averting her gaze from his.

Aedan realized what he was doing, and who they were in front of, and shot his hands back up in the air whilst coughing rather awkwardly. His bloody handprints on Morrigan's arms stood out. He looked down at his gauntlets. He hadn't noticed, but the inner lining of his gloves felt cold and drenched in blood. On the outside, the blood clung to the scratched metal surface and dripped every so often.

Was the rest of him like this?

He could feel Wynne's mending touch sew his flesh back together. His back tingled where the werewolf had slashed at him. The prickly feeling felt like a needle threading through his skin. Wynne gingerly patted him once on the shoulder to signal him she was done. She handed him a rag.

"You may want to wipe yourself up."

Aedan took the rag and wiped down his armor quickly, then tossed blood drenched rag to the side. He pointed down into the stairway. "There's a secret entrance here. The werewolves' were probably laying in wait here, but are now fleeing downstairs. Most likely Witherfang is down there."

As the group wandered down into the stairwell, Aedan took one last lingering look down the dark hallway. He, nor the others, could see only darkness where his rampage took place.

He hoped with all his heart the werewolves were more beast than man.


	34. Fury

_Ragged and out of breath, Aedan stumbled over the carpet and fell face first into the fuzzy patterns. His heart racing, he scrambled back up and glanced behind him. His pursuers closed in, and their swords looked sharper by the second. By now they had figured out that Bann Abelard wasn't with him, but they still pursued Aedan._

_He cursed the one warm night in Fereldan and how his sweat-drenched shirt felt like he had just fallen into a lake. You weren't supposed to get fine Antivan cloth this wet._

_Focus!_

_Racing through the hallways, his eyes searched for some escape. The windows had been placed too far up; he couldn't jump up to those. All other doors led to smaller, cut off rooms. Entering those meant inevitable death, cornered like a dog. Aedan didn't know where Bann Alfstanna kept her weaponry, and she may have hidden it away for her party. The candles flickered against the empty weapon racks, as though to mock Aedan._

_Candles._

_With a deft leap upwards, his fingers wrapped around the hot wax of a nearby candle. It burned against his skin and the man winced. Candle in hand, Aedan veered into the main hall and saw that although most of the occupants had fled, all the food and drinks had been left. And that included the alcohol._

_Aedan vaulted over the drinks table and planted the candle on a nearby rack. He grabbed several bottles of alcohol under his arm and looked at his situation._

_"Vintage from Orlais, damn it, why do I have to waste you like this," muttered Aedan as he lobbed several bottles at his pursuers. The glass shattered against their masks and the fragrant wines dripped down into their armor. Aedan rolled to the side as several of them swiped at him, and uncorked a bottle of Orzammar rum. He waved the bottle in the air, letting the liquid spill out across even more of the armored pursuers. Blood dribbled from his arm as a dagger flew by him. More and more began to surround him._

_Last bottle in hand, Aedan lept back to where he had left the single candle. Where the dagger had torn at his shirt, Aedan tore off the rest of the sleeve and stuffed it into the glass bottle of vodka. Just as a horde of the masked attackers circled him, Aedan raised the candle and the bottle. "Stop or you die!" he panted. All the running and dodging had really taken a toll on him. He wobbled a bit, still woozy from all the mercenaries stopped, looking at each other confused._

_"What the hell are you doing?" chided one attacker._

_"You know, the liquors from Orzammar are particularly strong. Flammable too." Aedan's tremblig hand brought the tiny flame closer to the rag end of the vodka bottle._

_"Did you all enjoy your alcohol bath? You smell that? That's a classic vintage straight from the vineyards of Val Royeaux. Woody, with a fruity undertone. Doesn't burn as well as Orzammar booze, but it gets the job done."_

_The leader of the group stepped forward, pushing the cautious soldiers to the side. Looking at Aedan's face, then back at the candle, he raised his sword. "Wine doesn't burn."_

_"Granted, there's also some rum and other assorted drinks soaking in your clothing right now. So, the moment that you move forward, I light this bottle and chuck it at you. So step back."_

_Chuckling, the group's leader sheathed his sword back to his side. He stepped forward again. Aedan stepped back. "You won't do it," he slithered, "You won't kill me. You're just like the rest of these nobles. Cowards."_

_Aedan brought the candle closer to the bottle, but far away enough so that no breeze might accidentally make flame stray and light the makeshift bomb. "I'll do it. Don't test me."_

_An arrow zipped by the merc's ear. Both Aedan and the mercenary froze in shock. Aedan's mother, perched behind the balcony, fixed her sights on leader. Aedan smiled at his mother's well-placed shot: despite her age, she still had quite the aim._

_"You touch one hair on my son's head, and I will kill you where you stand."_

_Unlike with Aedan, the mercenary seemed visibly taken aback. Now he took the step backward and held his hands up in the air. He motioned for the others to sheath their weapons, with which they begrudingly obliged. With the leader's mask still on, Aedan couldn't ascertain his expression, but he imagined it to be quite panicked._

_"Or...we make a deal. I have no quarrel with you or the Bann in particular."_

_"The hell you talking about," growled Aedan._

_"The woman who hired us- don't you want to know who it is? In exchange, we walk out of here, you put down that bow and arrow, and the kid puts down his candle."_

_Eleanor Cousland drew her bowstring back further and stared straight down her arrow at the man's forehead. "I'm not letting you criminals take one step out of here until the guards arrive."_

_"Too late," cooed a voice from the ceiling. A lithe, cloaked figure jumped in from the windows and threw down several smoke bombs. The thick noxious gas seemed familiar to Aedan, like something Adair would use. Coughing, Aedan shielded the flame with his body to keep it from going out. By the time the smoke cleared however all the masked men had disapeared._

_"Damn it! What's the point of guards if they can't even do their damn jobs?" shouted Eleanor, who threw a rope down the stairs. As she passed by her son, her nose scrunched up and she made a sick face. "Maker, it smells like a brewery in here." She sniffed her son once, then cringed away. "Never mind, it's just you."_

_"Where'd you get the bow?" asked Aedan, his heart still racing from all the excitement. "I was looking for weapons but couldn't find any."_

_"I come by and do target practice with Bann Alfstanna lately, so I know where she hides her weapons. You know, ladies night." His mother smiled as though shooting arrows with unrivaled accuracy was something standard ladies did. His mother had never been one to be a damsel in distress._

_Aedan grumbled under his breath,"Oh."_

_"What?" Eleanor glared at her son's sullen expression._

_"Could have grabbed me a sword or something," he muttered, avoiding his mother's gaze as he said it. Scowling, his mother pinched his cheek and Aedan winced. "Are you complaining after I came to your rescue?" She pulled once again harder and Aedan stumbled forwards._

_"No, mother," groaned Aedan, prying his mother's hand from his cheek._

* * *

_The seedy Denerim alleyway behind the fishery used to house a homeless man with a stray mabari pup, until the arrival of several armed masked men scared both of them off. The Orlesian women scoffed as the two fled. "No wonder Fereldan smells like wet dog. They actually sleep with those mongrels by their sides." Wiping her boots against the wall, she turned to the leader of the mercenaries. "Did kill the Bann? Make his death look like just an accident with some robbers?"_

_The man hesitated to answer, his eyes darting around for any possible threats. The other alleyways seemed clear, and the woman seemed to have no backup with her. If need be, his team could take her. "No ma'am. The Bann escaped. That stupid Cousland kid distracted us."_

_The Orlesian woman grimaced behind her mask. She clicked her tongue and chided, "No doubt the Bann will go into hiding now that he knows his life is in danger. You are all fools."_

_"I think you are the fool, for coming alone. As a courtesy for saving us, I'll simply take the money owe-"_

_With a snap of her fingers, arrows rained down upon the men from the rooftops, each one finding their place in the skulls of every mercenary. Whilst their blood trickled in the dirt Denerim alleyway, the Orlesian woman stood over them and sighed. "It is so hard to find good help these days. Ah, Leliana, how I miss your...expertise." She picked up the leader's broken Orlesian mask and peered at the blood dripping down. A lone drop splattered against her blouse and dribbled down her chest._

_"But it seems that a new toy has entered this...game of ours." The woman licked her lips behind her mask and chuckled._ _"Well, Aedan Cousland, I do hope you're ready to play."_

* * *

His sword outstretched, Aedan glared at the surrounding werewolves. Suspiciously, only a few had ran to meet him. Did they really think just a few could take them down? Pointing his sword from werewolf to werewolf, with his companions' weapons also drawn, he soon realized that the werewolves did not dare approach. They whispered in each other's pointed ears, until finally the main door opened and a rather ragged werewolf stepped forward, limping with a bad leg. It slowly made its way in front of Aedan, before whom the werewolf bowed.

"Enough of our brethren have been killed," it spoke, its elderly voice trembling. "If...if we can avoid further violence with you, then we shall be open to parley."

"Parley with who? Your Lady?"

"Yes. We will allow you to see her,' said the elderly werewolf, who looked up and growled at Aedan,"But if you harm any ounce of her being, we will not hesitate to destroy you. Many more of us lurk in the shadows." As if on cue, the room filled with hisses and howls, and the lights from many an eye opened about the room from the shadows. Aedan hadn't even noticed them.

"The same goes for you."

Morrigan scowled at the werewolf as the group walked by him. "I certainly hope that this is not another trap, Aedan. I daresay I have had enough concussions for the day."

"Well," he whispered under his breath, "just stay alert."

"Easy for you to say when you don't have a splitting headache."

Proceeding through the main door, Aedan found themselves beset on all sides by werewolves, snarling at them, yet keeping their distance. A clear path had lead through the center of the chamber, marked by leaves and crudely erected branches, like a fence. A woman, pale like the night sky but with vines and branches wrapping around her body, stood at the end of the path. The wolves bowed before her as she strode, no, glided towards Aedan.

"Hello, mortal. I am the Lady of the Forest." Her tendriled fingers, crafted from leaves and branches, crossed against her chest as she bowed before him. Out of courtesy, Aedan bowed back; this spirit seemed the civil sort, unlike the ones he had encountered in the Circle Tower. He tried to peer into her eyes, but her flowing black hair obscured one, while the other one seemed devoid of any color- just an utter void that Aedan, once he stared into it, averted his eyes. He chose instead to look at the obscured eye behind her hair.

"Hello...spirit," answered Aedan warily, "I'm a Grey Warden. I will be plain. A Blight approaches, and to get the elven army I either need Witherfang's heart, or some other way to lift the curse on Zathrian's people. Have you either?"

"In order to lift this curse, you must first understand it," said the spirit, "A long time ago, Zathrian was a young man with a family: a daughter and a son. One day, whilst the two hunted, neighboring humans captured them."

Swiftrunner stepped forward. "The son, they killed. The daughter, they raped. And when she was returned to the elves and discovered she was with child...she...killed herself." The wolf fumbled his hands together, not sure how to continue. Aedan let the story sink in silently. He could certainly understand Zathrian a little better now. After awhile, the Lady continued.

"And so Zathrian bound a spirit to wolf, and sent it to curse the humans. It transformed them into vile beasts, and it soon consumed the entire village. And yet even though those responsible had been punished...the curse lingered in the forest. Their ancestors and unfortunate travellers in the forest were cursed over time."

"Ages later...the Lady...found us," said Zathrian, with something akin to a smile across his teeth. "Soothed our rage and taught us to regain our humanity...what little remained in our bodies."

"But their curse always eats away at them, so we sought a way to lift it. Everytime he has passed through this area, we send a message to Zathrian, but he always ignores us." The Lady sliced her hand through the air. "We have had enough of his stubbornness."

Aedan would have crossed his arms in skepticism, but doing so in heavy armor proved unwieldy. "So you infected his clan to force him to lift it. Killed some of his own followers."

The spirit pointed at the sight of the wounded werewolves over near the door. Like Zathrian elves, they had been laid out on stretchers and writhed in agony. It seems the werewolves weren't skilled enough to employ higher-level medicine. "Just as you have killed some of ours in order to cure them. Stranger, this curse will not stop. It will consume more and more innocents. Someone must stop it, and if words will not be enough-" The spirit narrowed her eyes and the tendriled branches about her shifted then tightened. "Then perhaps blood will suffice."

"Zathrian said," asked Aedan, "he could cure his people with Witherfang's heart." His gaze moved from Swiftrunner to the spirit and back. "Is this true?"

"It is, but it will only apply to those whom he chooses to cure. He will not help these poor souls. He is too clouded by hatred to do so." The spirit reached for Aedan hands and held them in her own. Her leave-like tendrils wrapped around his fingers. Aedan could feel something similar to human warmth emanating from them. "Please stranger, reason with him. Ask him to lift this curse, before both sides destroy each other."

Staring at these creatures, Aedan found it difficult to picture these creatures as having been human once. Some seemed completely feral now, and had to be restrained by some of their more civil brethren. What if the werewolf curse had not only turned their bodies, but changed their nature permanently? Could these creatures ever truly go back to being human, after what they had done and been through?

"How do I know that when I lift this curse, you won't stay feral?"

"Regardless of what will happen if the curse is lifted, they don't deserve to have this condition forced upon them."

Aedan bit his lip. The spirit had a point. He just wasn't sure if he could trust her or the werewolves. For all he knew they could be lying to lead him into a trap. The only way to confirm would be to ask Zathrian himself.

"I will bring Zathrian here, and see if he can lift this curse. I too would like to end this without violence."

Aedan pushed open the gated doors. Standing by the entrance to the elven ruins, where they had entered not more than a few hours ago, was Zathrian. He planted himself between the group and the exit, clicking his staff once against the ground. He pocketed several vials into his knapsack, filled with bits of dead werewolf. Glaring at each other, Aedan and Zathrian both pondered their next words. The silence simmered until finally Zathrian broke it.

"Warden."

"Zathrian."

"I don't see Witherfang's heart with you."

"Funny that you'd know they'd be here."

"I sense hostility. Why is that?"

Aedan jutted his finger angrily at Zathrian. "You know exactly why. I just had a chat with the Lady of the Forest."

"Lady of the Forest...is that what the spirit calls itself these days? The spirit is Witherfang...or did she neglect to tell you?" Zathrian paused to take note of Aedan's expression: his face had twitched. Aedan hide his mild shock and continued on his rant.

"Quite frankly, I'm not sure who to trust at this point, but I'm more interested in knowing the truth of her statements. Did you make the curse? You best answer me, or I leave you to your squabbles."

Silence passed while Zathrian stared at Aedan, less than bemused. He sighed and dusted off the hem of his robes. "Yes. I made it."

Aedan didn't like his matter of fact tone, nor that blank expression that Zathrian wore. It seemed the elf held no guilt for what he had done. "Can you lift it without Witherfang's heart?"

"I can, but it will still result in the death of the spirit, and the curse will be lifted indiscriminately."

"Then why haven't you lifted it already to save your people? What are you afraid of?"

"Of them, Warden. Those animals. Look how long they have lived in these forests, feasting on innocent passersby and animals. Look upon their past transgressions and what they have done in the present. They cannot be trusted."

Aedan rubbed his brow and tried to think how to convince Zathrian to go parley. He responded with his honest opinion: "Just go down there and talk to them, Zathrian. They seem pretty repentant to me. We could end this without violence and there has been more than enough bloodshed."

Despite Aedan's words, Zathrian still seemed hesitant. He glanced over at Aedan's party, and back to the entrance, then back at Aedan. "If I go down there to parley, as you ask, will you have my back?"

"Depends on which one of you I think is right."

Zathrian's frowned and sighed, "A fair enough answer. I shall show you what these creatures surely are, then we will dispose of them."

Aedan led the keeper back down the side entrance the Lady had opened for them. The warden wished the damn thing had just been unlocked in the first place, as it would have made his trek a lot easier. Werewolf guards greeted them with snarls and hisses, but they kept their distance. They stepped backwards and made way for the Lady to approach Zathrian. A wistful, yet bitter expression twisted across Zathrian's face as the Lady of the Forest approached him. "Spirit. It has been some time." Before she got too close, he raised his staff towards her. The tip of his staff hummed with arcane energy.

The Lady smiled at his response sadly. "Too long, Zathrian. It has been too long. This curse must be lifted, for both our sake and your clan's." Her fingers pointed to barely restrained werewolves; the sight of Zathrian had boiled their anger and rustled their fur. Some with more control gripped the others by their arms to pull them back. Others hovered anxiously behind the makeshift fence, their eyes never leaving the tip of Zathrian's staff. Zathrian scoffed and his fingers wrapped around his staff like a vice. In an accusatory tone, he spat, "My clan would not be involved with this if you beasts had simply kept to yourselves- both in the present and the past."

"If we had learned to keep to ourselves and keep from harming the innocents, then we would not be beasts, now would we, Zathrian?" snarled Swiftrunner, leaping forward behind the Lady. His claws glinted in the chamber's eerie light. "But that is your fault! You have forced our hand!"

Looking back at Aedan, Zathrian raised his eyebrow and smirked condescendingly at Swiftrunner's reaction. "You see, Warden? Sure, it may talk like one of us, but beneath that facade is a bloodthirsty monster."

Aedan glanced at the others; they had the same worried expressions across their faces. None of them liked where this was going.

"The only monster here is you," interjected the spirit. Her hair began to lift up in the air, and the surrounding leaves swirled around her. Aedan could feel the wind brace against himself. "You have let your anger consume those who have not wronged, just for the sake of your petty revenge."

Aedan's eyes widened. The moment the spirit had spoken, Aedan knew that those words had been the exact wrong thing to say to Zathrian. The mage looked down at the ground with clenched fists, radiating wordless fury.""Petty?" Zathrian whispered under his breath. Pebbles trembled upon the ground. The wind bristled.

The spirit held her hands out in surprise. Her voice had quieted. "Zathrian, I did not mean-"

"PETTY?"

A shockwave tore through the room with Zathrian at its center. Like a hurricane, the very air around Zathrian sliced against all. "You go too far creature!" he screamed, "Do not forget why this curse was placed. Do not forget what my family had to go through. I will not let another one of you hurt another member of my clan!"

He thrust his hand forward and let loose a barrage of electricity. A shield of thorns and rocks arose from the ground to block the incoming blast from the Lady. Hands outstretched, she struggled to hold back Zathrian's assault. She turned backwards to Swiftrunner to shake her head. Begrudgingly, the werewolf held back and let the situation play out. The Lady turned her gaze back to Zathrian, the wind tearing at her face.

"And we will not need to, if you simply cure them! Or are you that afraid of dying- we know that your own life is tied to that of the curse. You are not so different from us. All your years of wisdom amount to nothing, for you still choose to protect your vengeance over your own people."

"You steal them! Do not blame me for your monstrosities! You cannot blame me for your own rotten nature, carried down from those shemlen monsters that killed my son and raped my daughter!" screamed Zathrian. He pushed forward, and the shield between him and the Lady began to crumble. "Warden, let us put an end these creatures."

"Zathrian, lift the curse," stated Aedan, "Now." He stepped to the side of the Lady and drew his sword. His companions followed, each drawing their respective weapons and pointing it at Zathrian. The mage stood surrounded by countless beasts and warriors. The wind stopped, and Zathrian's staff fell to his side. "What?"

"These crea- these people deserve to be free," said Aedan, "I get that you want to avenge your family. Truly, I do, but the ones who wronged you died long ago."

Zathrian smashed his staff into the ground. The earth shattered beneath Aedan and his party and broke apart. Whilst they struggled for footing, sylvans shook themselves from the soil. The ground shook as they stamped closer to the werewolves. Pillars rose and sank from the ground, launching werewolves into the air and swallowing some back into the soil. Sword in hand, Aedan weaved through the shifting landscape whilst boulders flew through the air.

Zathrian's eyes glowed blood red. "If you cannot see who is just in this matter, then you shall see my fury."


	35. Punishment

A blast of air catapulted Aedan upwards. He flailed about midair, searching for something to grab onto. As the warden plummeted back downwards, he kicked off against a Slyvan and rolled onto the floor near to Zathrian, wincing from the collision. The maelstrom of magic surrounding Zathrian buffeted Aedan with wind and heat and forced the warden stumbling backwards. Aedan didn't know it was possible for a single mage to hold out for so long. Uldred, who wielded both the power of a mage and a demon, fell much quicker. Perhaps if Uldred had used less of his gigantic fists, and more of his magic like Zathrian, he would have succeeded. Even with the combined forces of the werewolves and his own group, Aedan had yet to penetrate Zathrian's solid defense. The mage had walled himself off with rock, fire, and ice. Dozens of werewolves lay impaled on ice spikes or as smouldering ashes, but all in the room knew it was only a matter of time before he ran out of energy. Everyone just had to keep at it.

Sword outstretched, Aedan rushed at Zathrian's back. The mage whipped around whipped his staff in Aedan's direction. The air crackled, and lightning surged through Aedan's arm. The sickening smell of burnt flesh seeped through the cracks of his right gauntlet. Aedan howled and dropped his sizzling sword. Like a battering ram Aedan charged at Zathrian shield first, hoping to knock the man down. Another dome of air blasted Aedan backwards. Still reeling in pain, Aedan clutched his right arm and looked around to assess the situation. Leliana had perched up upon a tree and was firing arrows to help take down the Slyvans. Once the last had fallen, she made eye contact with Aedan, who pointed at Zathrian and shook his head. Leliana looked at him and understood: they couldn't kill him yet. They still needed Zathrian to cure the werewolves. Her arrow pointed downwards, at his knee. Her bowstring went taut, then she released. In vain the arrow flew, for it bounced harmlessly off of Zathrian's shields.

"Everyone...keep at him and wear down his defenses!" screamed Aedan. Werewolves charged at the elemental barriers, tearing at the searing material with their bare hands. They screamed in both determination and pain as the flames and lightning flared out at them.

"A little more!"

Slowly but surely the bubble shrank. With each armada of blows, the werewolves and warriors moved one step forward. Blood trickled down from Zathrian's nostril and his chest heaved in agony. His grip trembled. The elf gritted his teeth and slammed his staff into the ground again, trying to blow back everyone. The most he could summon was a small breeze. In a flash of light the bubble shattered. The eyes of the werewolfs gleamed; here was their revenge, right in front of their eyes. The man who had stolen everything from them. They howled with victory as they began to close in around him, their fur bristling.

"Wait!" Swiftrunner leapt before the rest. He swung his gaze at each and everyone of them and roared. The other werewolves halted. "We...are not... are not savages! Let the Warden deal with this." With a growl, the werewolf nodded slowly to Aedan. Blood streamed from his leg and he had to have another werewolf assist him with standing. The rest of the werewolves hesitated, looking back at Zathrian, than back at Swiftrunner, but eventually relented and fell back to the side.

Struggling to hold himself up by his staff, his legs shaking, Zathrian roared, "I will die before I let these...things free of their punishment!" All he had now was his words; it was clear to all present Zathrian had run out of magic. The elven keeper barely stood, and blood streamed from his nostrils and the corners of his eyes. Even during the fight, he had taken small doses of lyrium to sustain himself, which had taken its physical toll. He spat blood upon the ground and jabbed his finger at Aedan. "This is justice."

Justice? How could this man think for a second that what he was doing was right? Aedan scowled and shrugged off the werewolf helping him to stand. He steadied himself on his two feet and glared back at Zathrian. "This is just bloody vengeance."

"You would not understand!" Spit flew from Zathrian's mouth as he screamed his hoarse, tired words. Aedan hurled his shield into Zathrian's chest, knocking the wind out of him. His sword clattered to the ground and grabbed Zathrian up by his collar.

"I wouldn't understand?" Beneath his helm, the man's teeth ground. His fist shook whilst holding Zathrian. This man thought himself alone in his grief. This man thought that this grief allowed him to do terrible things. Worst of all, this man thought he was right for inflicting such harm on others. Just like Howe.

The thought of that wretched man made Aedan clench his fist tight. He punched Zathrian's, sending the elf barreling into the ground. Zathrian clutched his bloody nose. "You think you can bully me with your fists? What a typical shemlen. I don't know what Teharel saw in you."

The hair on the back of Aedan's neck bristled. Aedan clenched his fists tight. This man, this man before him, was the type of man who had taken everything from. Filled with hate and anger, and till the very end believing what they did was right, despite bringing down others with him. The werewolves didn't deserve any of this, yet Zathrian still held tight and kept them imprisoned in their monstrous forms.

"I'm just a dirty-ass shemlen, ain't I?" spat Aedan, "And yet here you are, the keeper of a great Dalish clan, who can't even protect his own clan. Couldn't even protect his own family." A twisted sense of satisfaction filled his heart as he saw Zathrian's face twist in anger and indignity. Roaring, Zathrian pivoted his hips and let his fist fly into Aedan's face. The Warden dodged with a simple sidestep; Zathrian telegraphed his movements so much, it was clear he had never been in a fist fight. His chest was wide open and he swung rather than jabbed with force. Yet Zathrian's face contorted in rage as a vein bulged on his forehead.

The elf lunged at Aedan again. "Don't you dare speak of them!" Zathrian howled. Aedan met Zathrian's fist with his own. Their knuckles smashed together and Zathrian stumbled backwards from the pain. Panting like a beast, Aedan encroached upon Zathrian, who kneeled on the ground cradling his hand. His shadow fell over the bleeding man.

Did this man deserve mercy?

Aedan clenched his hilt in his hand. It stung to grip the sword, as his very skin had been burnt raw. He raised the tip in the air to threaten Zathrian. The keeper didn't budge, and glared at him with adamant eyes. The keeper knew he had no magic left in him. With a bitter demeanor he closed his eyes and awaited his judgement by Aedan's hand.

If not for men like him, the army at Ostagar would still march.

If not for men like him, his family would still be alive.

If not for men like him, Morrigan would not have been endangered.

With a roar Aedan swung down. The edge of judgment sliced through the air and echoed through the chamber. Eyes clenched, Zathrian noticed that he was not in fact dead. He patted himself over for new wounds. No grievous wounds or injuries to speak of. Zathrian looked back up at Aedan, then back at the sword. Aedan's sword stuck out of the ground. A solemn silence had taken the Warden while he stood motionless. The keeper noticed that even though Aedan's gaze fell upon him, the man was not looking at him: Aedan gazed far beyond into an abyss, one which Zathrian knew too well. Zathrian's expression softened. At this moment, Zathrian and Aedan needed no words to say what both knew. Here stood kindred spirits, bitter and broken by the machinations of others.

"You too?" breathed Zathrian. Despite being beset on all sides by all manners of witch, warrior, and werewolf, he laid down his staff for the first time in years. His fingers tingled; it felt strange to not hold a weapon in the presence of others. Once on his feet, the keeper walked over to Aedan and patted the man on his shoulder.

Aedan tried his best to laugh, yet it could only come out as a bitter grunt. "We're both just barely put together messes, aren't we?"

Zathrian too attempted the same, yet could only sigh. He let his hand fall to his side and his head hung. "I have lived... far too long, thinking myself above others, forgetting that others could feel my pain." He scanned over the wounded werewolves and the carnage his rampage had wrought. I will do as you ask. I will free the werewolves."

Alistair picked up Zathrian's staff and held it out to him. "Thank you," said the other warden.

Zathrian smiled and accepted the gesture, clasping his staff for the last time. Aedan wondered how longed Zathrian had carried the wizened piece of wood- perhaps since his family's death. Turning to Aedan, Zathrian dug into his knapsack and threw him something. It glinted in the eerie light of the chamber. Aedan caught it with both hands: a worn metal flask, with the carved symbol of an elven tree on the front. He traced the branches down to the root with his fingers.

"For the sleepless nights that I know you have, and will have," said Zathrian. Aedan avoided the suspicious glances of his companions and pocketed the flask in his side-bag. A man's last gift was not to be taken lightly.

No one spoke as Zathrian limped over to his staff. Even the most rowdy werewolves stopped their growling and fidgeting. It took a minute for the keeper to muster up enough strength to kneel down and bring up his staff. His back turned to all those in the chamber, Zathrian whispered something under his breath as he stared at the ground.

What do you say to man who is about to die? thought Aedan. How do you comfort him? How do you give him that last gleaming sliver of happiness so that he will die happy? He thought back to what his own parents might say to him. "You did good, Zathrian. I'm proud of you," lied Aedan. He smiled the best he could at Zathrian. The keeper sadly smiled back and grasped his staff in both hands. His hands gripped it tight. Zathrian looked over at the Lady of the Forest and asked, "Shall we?"

The Lady smiled one last time. "Let's go."

A small chuckle escaped the keeper. His fingers scratched at the side of his staff at two little notches made long ago. "All these years I never noticed...you have her smile."

Zathrian slammed the staff down upon the ground.

* * *

_Today Aedan would watch a man die._

_Truth be told, he had never seen a man die. Never seen the light drain from someone's eyes. Never taken a life with his blade. Aedan could count on his fingers the number of times he had been in life threatening situations. The most recently of which had been resolved in the same way as today's would be: death._

_"All dead?" asked Aedan of Kylon. Kylon had been stationed outside of the Landsmeet chamber for guard duty. The guard seemed no worse of wear after being hit over the head the previous night. Surprisingly, he and several other guards had managed to keep the other nobles from panicking in the streets by organizing the return of all their stolen goods. Still, work never rested, and Kylon had the displeasure of running security for today's execution._

_"Murdered in the streets. Whoever these men worked for didn't want them talking." Kylon leaned against the outside chamber walls and mulled over the crowd outside. Perhaps said person awaited in the crowd, just biding their time till they hired another attacker._

_"Why haven't they killed Victor and Adair yet then?" asked Aedan._

_"Perhaps they work for different people, or perhaps they feel as though Victor and Adair are dead men already. We are at Victor's execution after all."_

_"How about Bann Abelard? My mother got him out of the building, but he ran off afterwards."_

_"Luckily he ran straight to the guards for protection. We don't know what his crimes are yet, but he's willing to talk in exchange for information. We haven't gotten anything out of him yet though; he's still a bit shaken. I'll contact you when I have more. Go inside now, it's time."_

_Aedan nodded and thanked Kylon with a handshake. The young Cousland made his way to one of the balcony seats. Being the son of a Teynir meant that he was obligated to come to such events thrown by the Crown. His father and Fergus sat as usual at the front near the actual execution. For once, Aedan did not envy Fergus's seat._

_Once Aedan had found his seat, the sight of his mother greeted him. Rather solemnly she nodded and beckoned for him to sit down. The two didn't speak as the executioner rose and listed the charges against Victor. From afar the assasin, gagged and restrained in a blockade, no longer struggled against his bonds. His former sharp words and snarling face towards Aedan had now been replaced by a weary look._

_"What do you think?" whispered Eleanor to her son, "Of all this? You were the one who captured him anyhow."_

_Aedan continued to look at Victor's face. The restrained man scanned the room, but for whom Aedan did not know. Perhaps he searched for salvation. "It seems wrong to just... kill a man like this. To slaughter him like an animal. Like it's entertainment."_

_"I think so too." Eleanor sighed and continued to listen to the ceremony. Now a royal advisor had stepped out and began to list the praises of both Maric and Cailan. The young king sat upon his throne and leaned against his fist, rather bored._

_"I get why they're doing it," mused Aedan,"I really do, but at the same time, it just feels...wrong. They need to set an example- to show people what happens when you go against the king. To show their might._

_"Overall, it'll keep crime down. We'll see a decrease in crimes amongst the nobles, now that they know the possible consequences. Petty crimes will still continue, as those don't relate directly to the crown," rambled Aedan. He was trying not to think of what was coming next. Victor had already been lowered into the guillotine. His leg and arms shook. Still the royal advisor babbled on, while a bead of sweat dripped down Victor's brow. Noticing her son's displeasure, Eleanor stroked his head and leaned her own against Aedan's shoulder. She used to do this to him when he was young; she had always joked that he was just a like a mabari hound, that if you pet him enough he'd calm down. Aedan's twitching stopped and his breathing calmed. With a sad smile without looking into her son's eyes, Eleanor asked, "You wouldn't have killed those men...back in Bann Alfstanna's manor?"_

_"Probably not, to be honest. The idea of robbing someone else of their life...seems wrong. When I think of someone else, I think of the fact they could have had a mother like you, or a father like the one I had. They could have played pranks with their brother and told stories to their nephew. And when I think about that, and what I could be robbing a person of when I kill them...I just hesitate." Aedan clenched his chair handle to stop his fidgeting. Eleanor sighed and continued to let her head rest against her son._

_"I like that about you," whispered Eleanor, "The part of you that sees the best in other people. I wish that you'd just stay that bright-eyed little boy for all of my life. That you wouldn't leave my side and would just stay with me, with such optimism and innocence." She ruffled his well-made hair. He grumbled slightly; he had put time into it to look good at her behest, and now she was messing it up. "Now look at you. You're taller than me and I can even lean my head on you. I remember when I had to carry you everywhere."_

_The executioner had walked onto the platform. Aedan grimaced at Victor's incoming fate. "I guess we all have to grow up someday, don't we."_

_The executioner was shouting something right now. His words didn't reach Aedan's ear, as the pounding of his heart blocked it all. The executioner brought his axe up. Victor slowly shut his eyes as tears rolled down his face._

_"Yes." Eleanor glanced up at her son and stroked his hair again. "I guess we do."_

_Today Aedan watched a man die._

* * *

The first order of business had been getting all the werewolves into clothing, as Aedan felt that the level of naked to clothed people in the room made everyone present quite uncomfortable. Luckily, the werewolves had hoped for such an eventuality and had collected relevant clothing. Now elves, dwarves, and humans alike strapped themselves into ragged pants and tunics. Despite looking like beggars, they beamed as though they had received the greatest treasure in the world.

"We're free...we're finally free." What had once been the monster known as Swiftrunner now flexed his hairless hands and patted down his face. He spent several seconds just fidgeting with his nose and laughing in joy. The man seemed unnaturally fascinated with it; perhaps, Aedan thought, he had been taking his own for granted, taking a moment to scratch at his own. "Warden, thank you. Truely. We will not forget what you have done for us. You fought for us, so we will take up arms and join your army, if you will have us."

"You just got your humanity back. Are you sure you're up to it?"

"It may take awhile to get used to weapons and armor, but we have lived our lives as fighters. Our bodies will not forget that."

Aedan offered his hand to Swiftrunner. The man hesitated and before taking it. "I'm sorry...this is just...this is my first time shaking someone's hand." He wiped tears from the corner of his eye and laughed deep from his belly. Such an earnest laugh. Aedan had not heard such in awhile.

One woman cradled the corpse of naked man. The sylvans had torn right through his chest. She whispered something in his ear and held his cold corpse close. An elven man tugged on her blouse. Unresponsive, the woman simply clutched the body close to her. After awhile and many subsequent tugs, the woman burst into tears and sobbed. The elven man stopped bothering her and left her to her sorrow.

The corpses had turned back.

It all came rushing back to Aedan, like something had grabbed ahold of his heart and began twisting it. What he had done to give Zevran time to get Morrigan back. What he had done to find this lair. The words involuntarily left his mouth: "I left something in the catacombs. I'm going to go get it." His tongue numbed. As the words left him, Aedan couldn't feel anything in his fingers. Was he even breathing? The shock had propagated through his body and deadened all of his senses. He could see out of the corner of his eye Alistair staring at him in confusion. A look between the two told Swiftrunner exactly what Aedan was thinking. "Warden, you don't need to...we understand-"

"Sorry," grimaced Aedan,"but I can't leave without it."

* * *

He had told the others to help guide the werewolves out of the ruins to a safe exit out of the forest. That would keep them busy for an hour or two. Enough time to settle his business, or at least he had thought. The walk back up the spiral staircase seemed to take an hour, even though he had rushed down it in less than a minute. Aedan tried to concentrate on anything but what he knew lay behind that corner. His ragged breathing. The sting of his sweat against his open wounds. That serene quiet of the elven ruins. The vines that creeped in from the cracks in the stones. His footstep echoed as he took the final step off the stairs.

_Open your eyes._

His eyelids didn't respond. His fists trembled. Perhaps he should just turn back now. His hand stung with the dirt and sweat inside of his gauntlet. He could just go back to the campfire and strike jokes with Alistair, deflect Shale's sarcasm, and enjoy Morrigan's company.

_Open your eyes._

Without looking, Aedan felt for the torch holder on the wall. Once he had found it, he placed his torch in and let the flame flicker. Still, his eyes closed, knowing what was before him, he stood. He took a few deep breaths in. Like waking from a dream, his eyes fluttered open.

A head without a body swam in a pool of blood, staring at him with glazed eyes. Strewn about the ground lay the corpses of Aedan's victims, now reverted to human form. Their scarlet blood painted the floor. The werewolf he had smashed the fire over now leaned against the wall, his skin burnt coal black. The other whose neck Aedan had sliced lay face down, her blood trickling through the rocks on the floor like a river.

Hyperventilating, Aedan fell to his hands. His stomach churned. Vomit splattered against the ground. His body trembled. The only thing Aedan had to be thankful for now was his nausea had blurred his vision.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he whispered to the accusing eyes of the dead. He wiped his sleeve against his mouth. The putrid smell of corpses and vomit almost made him want to hurl again. He doubted that after only an hour that the corpses smelled and that he was just imagining it, yet he could still smell it. The rot. The death. The destruction. It reminded of him of the remains of Lothering, except that no darkspawn had done this. He had.

"You were just...doing what you thought was right. Zathrian was just doing what he thought was right. I was just doing what I thought was right."

It was either him or them. He had to do it, when so much was riding on his shoulders. Shaking, Aedan wondered if he himself would have to make more sacrifices like this.

"Hell, if I had been strong enough, I could have saved you all. I could have saved my family." Aedan bit down on his lip. His chest heaved desperately, as it threatened to explode. He shut his eyes, trying not to look at the results of his rampage, yet he knew that only a few feet away they lay staring back at him. He lingered there on his knees, just trembling. "I'm sorry. I promise not to waste this."

A lone dog peered from behind the corner, watching Aedan as he stood up on both feet and stopped trembling.

* * *

_Something seemed off this time as Aedan brought a plate of mashed potatoes down to Adair. A breeze flowed through the dungeon and tickled the tip of Aedan's nose. Aedan tiptoed towards the last cell at the end of the hallway, peering around the corner as he did. As he turned, the food in his hands splashed to the ground; Adair's restraints, and Adair as well, had vanished._

_Aedan entered the cell and frantically peered around. "Shit-"_

_Before Aedan could finish, a shadowy figure dropped from above Aedan and knocked him to the ground: Adair. He wrapped his arms around Aedan's neck like a vice. Aedan's hands flailed as he struggled for air._

_"Not that I haven't enjoyed my little side trip here," said Adair, "but there's things I need to do. In order to do them, I need a little help. I have a proposition for you, since you seem capable enough."_

_Sputtering with what little air he had left, Aedan coughed, "Why...would I want to listen to you?" He slapped his hand against Adair's arm. The grizzled warrior sighed and loosened his grip on Aedan's neck._

_"Contrary to what you and Teharel think, I'm not such a bad fellow...besides the whole nearly killing him bit. I'll admit, I have some... anger issues."_

_"Really? Hadn't noticed," sputtered Aedan. In response Adair tightened his grip on Aedan's throat. The young man clawed at Adair's hand till the older veteran grunted and loosened his grip._

_"Somebody who worked with Teharel and I was assigned to a specific case; one that is detailed in the documents you hid in your desk." Adair laughed at Aedan's panicked expression. The older assassin smirked and let the boy worry awhile. "Relax. I didn't take them. Think of it as the first step to building a partnership."_

_Struggling against his bonds, Aedan glared at Adair. The man's casual tone sent a shiver down his spine. "Why would I work with you?"_

_"Like it or not, you are now playing a very dangerous game with very dangerous people. You could have backed out after you captured me, but you didn't, and now that's cost you. You either see this through or they'll kill you and your entire family." Adair laughed. "I guess it's your punishment to help me."_

_"Sod off."_

_"If you don't help, certain men will try to take this country. They are remorseless, they are powerful, and most of all above Ferelden's court of law. I'm trying to stop them from taking advantage of certain aspects of the Crown."_

_Even Aedan knew what Adair referenced: Cailan had only been on the throne a year, and Anora was only a commoner. Despite her own competence, Cailan was less than ideal. Although many adored him, there were equally many who felt that he didn't deserve the crown as much as his father. Victor's execution showed that the Crown was trying to assert its dominance and show that its administration was willing to do the hard things._

_Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Aedan asked, "So why try and fake an assassination attempt?"_

_"When someone tries to kill a king, all the successors are put under tight alert. The men who hired me didn't actually want him dead, they just wanted to see who he'd protect."_

_His smile gone, replaced only by a cold, business like stare, Adair leaned in._

_"Tell me, have you ever heard of Maric's bastard?"_

* * *

The elven reception was less than ideal when Aedan had carried Zathrian's limp, dead body back into their camp. They had nearly shot their arrows out of rage, but Aedan stared them down until they relented. He had decided not to tell them of Zathrian's true involvement. Attempting to besmirch their beloved keeper's name after his death would worsen relations with the elven army.

"He died a hero, to save you all from the curse. Do not forget his sacrifice," he had told them. Aedan wasn't quite sure whether or not it was a lie. Either way, the elves believed him. They did not ask questions about the wounds Zathrian had sustained, nor of the former werewolves. They too understood that this was not a time for more rage and vengeance, but for grief. After he had handed the body to the other elven warriors, and confirmed the elven alliance with the new keeper, Lanaya, Aedan and the others left immediately. He didn't want to stay for the funeral; after all, he was only a stranger there among their family.

Camp resumed as usual; Wynne scolded Alistair for his lack of hygiene, Leliana hummed a tune under her breath whilst she roasted a cut of meat over the fire, Shale and Sten reviewed highlights of their past battles. And, per usual, Aedan found himself being stitched back together by magic. When Wynne and the other had pried the armor off of him, they gagged at the smell and his burnt arm. The arm had been dealt with first, though the skin was now a tad bit tanner and rough. Morrigan now stood over his back and rubbed a strange ointment into his back wounds. A werewolf had gotten a good bite in, and Wynne's healing didn't seem to affect the wound quite so much.

Morrigan's hand hovered over Aedan's nose, and they glowed ever so slightly. A ticklish, painful feeling shot through his sinuses. Aedan squirmed in his seat.

"Hold still, fool."

"Whenever one of you tries to heal my nose, it feels like somebody's tickling it. It's too weird."

"Perhaps I should just leave it broken and let the next darkspawn hit you in the face."

Relenting, Aedan resisted the urge to fidget about. He had been through worse pain before anyhow. The light faded in front of him, and Morrigan pressed her hand against his nose to check for any residual swelling. "Good as new," she commented, before handing Aedan his shirt. While he pulled the linen over his head, Aedan still felt the wounds on his back sting as the fabric brushed against them. "How about the bite marks?"

"Unfortunately, the magical nature of these wounds make it rather hard to prevent the scars. You shall have to let the herbs do their work to actually close them." Ever the pragmatist, Morrigan pondered the nature of Aedan's wounds. "Tis a pity we could not get the werewolves along with the elves, considering the effectiveness of their bites," she mused. "Having such creatures on our side would no doubt have been quite advantageous against the darkspawn. It would have been a much better victory."

Back turned to Morrigan, Aedan stretched his newly healed right hand. "Doesn't seem like a success to me." He reached out towards the illuminated moon and let the light fall across the sword scars that still remained, despite the old skin having mostly been burnt away.

Still packing away her own medicines, Morrigan replied, "And how would you define success?"

Staring at the night moon, Aedan didn't want to think about what could have been, and just wanted to appreciate what he had gotten out of this. "Whatever lets me sleep at night."

Morrigan sat beside him and stared at the moon with him. "You're a strange man."

"What?"

"Like in the catacombs...you went like..." Morrigan clunked her fists together to simulate their foreheads together.

It seemed a rather crude gesture to represent what had happened, so Aedan laughed. "I'm guessing that's weird for you since we've never had physical contact..." He turned to face her with a deadpan expression. "Oh wait."

"Tis different." Morrigan glared at him until he stopped laughing, though it did take awhile. If he could not have his laughter, Aedan would at least have his answers. "Explain," he asked.

Morrigan struggled to find the words and wrung her hands. Narrowing her eyes at Aedan, she leaned in and pressed her forehead against his, then just as quickly drew back. Aedan almost laughed at her scrunched up expression as she tried to decipher this gesture.

"See- tis unnecessary. It serves no purpose and unlike our arrangement, brings no sexual pleasure. I do not see the-" Breaking off her words with a brief silence, Morrigan leaned in again and let her forehead rest. She lingered for longer. This time, Aedan had no desire to laugh; the witch's eyes seemed almost tender as she glanced once into his. Yet just as quickly as she had brought the gesture on, Morrigan retreated once again. Morrigan crossed her arms and looked away. Her forehead burnt and Aedan had a nasty habit of making fun of her. She need not give him any more reasons to do so. "I do not see the appeal. Now explain why you did it."

To be honest, Aedan wasn't sure. It had been instinctive, just a plain expression of relief. Now that he thought about it, although it may have seemed instinctive to him, to someone cut off from society like Morrigan, it may have been intrusive. He felt the need to explain himself, yet the words to do so eluded him. Aedan grumbled. "Just a few moments before, you had been in my arms bleeding and with head trauma. I was...worried about you." That was the simplest way he could put it. He looked over at Morrigan to see whether or not she had understood.

Her hand hid her expression as she brushed aside a stray lock of hair. "Oh."

Aedan took her response as the end of that and collected his gear. The day had been long and he just wanted to rest. Under her breath, Morrigan mumbled something. Aedan couldn't hear her, so he put his hand up to his ear and beckoned for her to speak again. "It was nothing," stated Morrigan, before asking, "How about you?"

"What?"

"So you can worry about me and I cannot worry about you?" accused Morrigan. For some reason, the conversation had her heart racing. Talking about such intimate things and feelings felt like forcing out a lump in her stomach, yet the words still left her.

"No!" Aedan scratched his head sheepishly, " I mean...you're worried?"

Morrigan thought back to the scene she had seen. Aedan keeled over and sickened by his own actions. His words lingered in her ear, as well as the ominous mention of his family. Her heart panged as she thought of something else: why, and what, was he hiding it from her? Did he not trust her? "You're okay, right?" she asked, directing a tender gaze into his eyes. She'd never said such words before, so when they left her throat, they came out quiet and subdued.

Aedan smiled the best he could. "Why wouldn't I be?" He scratched his head sheepishly and chuckled, trying to alleviate Morrigan's worry.

Morrigan too tried her best to smile, despite her own doubts and worries. She crossed her arms and replied, "G-good. I expected you to be quite resilient." She turned her gaze away and stared off into the distance. After a few moments of awkward silence, Aedan finished packing his things together. Turning his back on Morrigan, Aedan returned to his own tent. He didn't know what confused him more: the fact that Morrigan actually worried, or whether or not she actually believed his reassurances.

Alone in his tent, Aedan curled up in his bedroll. His fingers traced the bite marks along his back, then lingered over the scars on his right arm. Trying to clear his head, Aedan pulled his blankets over himself and tried to let the warmth take him. His eyes fluttered closed as his body, drained of energy, lulled him into slumber. In the darkness of his closed eyes, flashes of the dead stared back at him. His father, Victor, Teharel, his mother-

The decapitated head of a former werewolf, swimming in a pool of blood.

Aedan shot back up in a cold sweat. The best he could, he used his cast-aside shirt to wipe off his own sweat. His forehead still slick, Aedan tried to close his eyes again, yet any motivation to sleep had dissipated; the lives he had taken lingered on his mind, as well as those he knew would one day fall by his hand.

Groaning, Aedan rolled over in his bed roll. The back of his hand hit his knapsack, and the flask inside clicked against various other trinkets. Rather wearily Aedan, while still exhausted and lying down, rifled through the bag with one hand. It would have been quicker with two, yet he hadn't the strength nor motivation to summon the other. Finally his fingers met the flask again. Aedan briefly remembered that Teharel had a similar flask he had kept on him at all times. He held it above his sight and swished the liquid inside back and forth. By the lack of liquid movement, Aedan could tell that Zathrian had kept the bottle filled up to the brim. No doubt the the keeper had refilled it recently.

With a quiet pop, Aedan pried the cap off. Against his better judgement, he chugged the entire thing. The alcohol burned against his throat and, teary eyed, Aedan almost gagged. Aedan suspected that the elven vodka was for more medicinal purposes; he should have asked Zathrian about that. Coughing, Aedan let the flask clatter to the ground. He rested his forehead against his knees and sighed.

Served him right.

* * *

**PART 4 END**

* * *

 


	36. Progress

* * *

**Part 5: Leaders**

* * *

 

Aedan tightened the leather overcoat and shivered. The snow assaulted his face and the tip of his nose stung. The man sniffled. Cold misty drops dripped down his face. Aedan wiped them off against his sleeve. He grimaced: the stubble on his face didn't mesh well with the rough texture of the leather. Aedan needed to shave.

The cold reminded him of Highever. Winter nights in the castle had been harsh for everyone. His parents made sure to stay well stocked in furs and leathers for everyone, including the live-in servants. Ferelden was a cold country already, so being up north in Highever meant that they always had to be prepared.

Soldier's Peak was no different. Aedan stood at the edge of Avernus's tower, overlooking his new conquest. A merchant, Levi Dryden, had informed to the presence of the fortress. It had once belonged to the Grey Wardens before they had been exiled from Ferelden, and had been lost ever since. Aedan had been skeptical of Levi's claims, but the gamble had paid off. After a tangle with undead and an unsavory demon, the whole fortress was Aedan's. He hoped to make this a base of operations; while he and his companions were always mobile, there was constant need of influx for information regarding the war efforts. Loghain's civil war still raged and Aedan needed any possible leverage against the man he could get: troop movements, insider information, allies he could call upon.

Granted, Aedan did not plan to join into the fray of the civil war. His goal was to minimize the damage as much as he could, so that Ferelden would be as prepared as possible for the assault upon the Archdemon. Levi would outpost himself here, and in addition to trying to bring some business back to the area, he would see fit to serve as a mailpost for all of Aedan's current allies.

From a distance, Aedan watched as Levi shooed some of his kids inside of the fortress. They had been playing catch outside, but the snow had begun to pick up. Shivering, Aedan headed back inside. The rest of the group save for Alistair had departed back down; none of them were too fond of the cold, especially Morrigan. Aedan made a mental note to remind her to wear more layers. He also made a mental note to keep Alistair at arms length, as the templar had wandered off to explore the deeps of the castle; finding him would be a pain. The insides of the keep, filled with dust and old skeletons, had proven enough of a labyrinth to the group already.

Aedan had one last piece of business to take care of, however: Avernus. He had not seen fit to chain the man up. Aedan had precious little allies as it was, and although the man had consorted with demons, he seemed sane enough, almost like Zathrian. Avernus had eased himself into an old wooden rocking chair and let himself relax in its comfort. "Tis good to see some young blood here. Now with that pesky demon out of the way, I can finally relax...although it seems you have something else on your mind. Business then."

Avernus referred to the small vial Aedan grasped in hand, filled with a dark shadowy liquid. Something swirled inside it and bubbled against the glass. In his other hand, Aedan held a stack of ancient notes, which he presented to Avernus.

"Explain to me this...abomination. I avoided bringing it up in front of Alistair, but when I read through your research notes-" Aedan's teeth ground against one another. The sight of Avernus just sitting there casually and flipping through the papers, unnerved Aedan. "You killed fellow wardens."

Avernus narrowed his eyes at Aedan and scrutinized him. Anger painted Aedan's face, yet he did not lash out violently, nor dissolve into a puddle of rage. The rage bubbled beneath the surface, chained by Aedan's self control. Avernus stroked the arm of the chair and peered at the blood spots on the walls.

"A few lives to save thousands, even millions. Blood magic is a powerful tool. I have long resisted the effects of the taint, and even old age, by its means. But do not be mistakened, it is a dangerous tool, one that we resorted to because we had no other choice."

A sinister smile crept across Avernus's face, one that Aedan did not like. "But what if we had another choice? This taint in our blood...it is such a crude ritual. We ingest the poison of the darkspawn and even the Archdemon, to gain simple immunity. Yet there is power in there. This concoction of mine purifies the taint while keeping its power intact, such that the one who drinks it gains complete mastery over it."

With his thin, bone-like finger Avernus pointed at the vial within Aedan's hand.

"My research...my life's work. Two hundred years of experimentation, of countless sacrifices. I completed it about a year ago. Countless trials and lives finally gave me one, perfect distilled solution. I doubt I will ever be able to make it again without sufficient...sacrifices. Now that you have forbade me from doing so, this will be the last one ever made, and I have been waiting for a warden such as yourself to come and take it."

Aedan scoffed. "Such as myself? You think I'm another test subject?"

Despite Aedan's glare, Avernus gave a hearty laugh, "You're no simple warden ensign. You're a leader- someone who can truly use this power to it's fullest potential."

"I lead a small group of well-trained experts. Hardly world shaking."

"Oh ho ho, but no doubt the world will tremble at your steps. You have a certain charisma about you, perhaps fostered through an extensive life in court, and the shadowy ones out of court. The different races do not seem to concern you; I saw no preference between the elf, qunari, or humans. I've met many a Orlesian Warden with a bloated ego that would scoff at us Fereldans, and many a Fereldan Warden who'd do the same to an Orlesian."

Avernus sat up and paced the room. He circled the remnants of what had once been his study; demons and skeletons had scattered the books and vials. Aedan stood and the center, he felt as though that as Avernus circled around him the old man peered into his soul. He had already surmised enough about Aedan's former noble life, and that was only from knowing him for about an hour. From the corner of his eyes, Aedan maintained his view on Avernus.

"That silver-tongue of yours and those wolf-like eyes. Even as we speak, you're scanning me right now. Always wary."

Those eyes that Avernus had mentioned still maintained their cold gaze. Aedan continued to listen though as Avernus circled the room, like a vulture stalking it's prey. The young warden wasn't sure if Avernus was going to try anything. He drummed his fingers against his hilt just in case.

"People are drawn to you, like a moth to the flames, because you have the nature of hero, even if you're willing to do things less than heroic to save others. It's why you've kept me alive at the behest of others. You remind me a little of Warden-Commander Dryden."

Avernus pointed to Aedan's shield now and smiled at the battered slab of metal strapped to Aedan's back. "Then there's the choice of your weapons and how you move in combat. Your shield's always out, and you leap to defend everyone around you, even at personal cost. Reckless, but determined. People like to follow those who would protect them." With a more mischievous smile, Avernus chuckled, "Although, you seemed to have worried over that black-haired mage the most."

Aedan grimaced at that last comment. He didn't think had shown preference to Morrigan, but apparently the old mage saw more than even Aedan could. "Done lecturing yet?"

The smile and it's playful demeanor vanished as Avernus coldly said, "A warning; she may be a beautiful one, but she is just like me; a dangerous mage caught up in the pursuit of power. Just as I used men like you, so shall she. You cannot change her nature."

Scowling, Aedan chose not to respond to Avernus's last comments. Instead, he peered at the vial in his hands, rolling it between his fingers and pondering.

The concoction was an abomination, forged from the unjust sacrifices of countless lives, yet Aedan's gut made his hand clench around it, preventing him from smashing it to the ground. Those lives were lost already. Though not a willing sacrifice, it was a sacrifice nonetheless. Perhaps he should honor that.

Avernus sighed and slumped back into his chair. A few hundred years of fighting demons tended to wear out people. "You need not decide now if you wish to take my concoction. It is a dangerous item, much like the Joining. It could kill you, but I ask that you keep it. You could save a lot of people with that."

Hesitantly, Aedan wrapped the vial in a thick layer of cloth and stuffed it into his satchel. "Yeah," he whispered, "I could."

* * *

Just as Aedan drifted off to sleep, Morrigan shook him awake. He rolled over and grumbled. Morrigan's fingers fumbled with her underwear as she fastened it behind her back.

"Wake up, fool. You are not sleeping here," stated Morrigan, her back turned while she dressed. An unspoken rule between the two had been to never actually sleep the night together.

"Right. Right," yawned Aedan. He hadn't slept much the nights preceding, so after he and Morrigan had finished, his consciousness had drifted away, upon which Morrigan had yanked it right back.

Morrigan pulled a necklace over her head, it's silver chains clinking. Aedan had gotten it for her at a recent town they had passed by; she had made several longing glances at it while passing by the jewelry booth, and Aedan had surprised her with it later that day. Although she had tried not to seem excited, Aedan took it as a good sign that she was wearing it now.

"Sorry." Aedan rubbed his hands against his face to wake himself up. "Haven't been sleeping well lately- just sort of drifted off again."

"Perhaps it is a side effect of your atrocious eating habits."

"What do you mean 'atrocious' habits?"

"Sorry, I meant just the one: you eat just meat."

"And bread...you can't forget bread."

"Yes...meat and bread," said Morrigan, scowling at his grin, "One might think if the darkspawn don't kill you, the excess of fat clogging your veins will." She huffed and folded up her blanket. "You should eat better."

Wanting to change the subject, Aedan threw out the first thing that came to mind as he slipped his trousers back on. "How does the translation of your mother's tome go? I haven't heard you talk about it in awhile."

Morrigan paused for a moment. The question had caught her off guard. "Yes...I have not done translation work on it in quite some time."

"Oh," replied Aedan, looking away and stifling a laugh. Morrigan whipped around at him. Her hair, still undone, grazed his face, tickling his nose. "'Oh' what? Do you have something you wish to say?" she growled, ferocity in her voice.

"Thought you were more powerful and wiser than other mage," teased Aedan,"and yet you can't even translate one measly tome?"

"Well...whose fault do you think that is? First off, the sheer amount of injuries you sustain, because apparently you have not heard of dodging. Afterwards, you insist that I, not Wynne, be the one who heals you."

"I like your healing better."

"How is one healing different from another?"

Aedan squinted his eyes and raised his hands in front of him "Wynne's healing is more like this." He clicked with his tongue as he moved his hands up and down rhythmically. "Yours is more like this." He started moving his hands in circles and humming under his breath, making extremely concentrated face as he did so.

Morrigan gaped at him in utter disbelief as Aedan continued his imitation of magic. He glanced once at her and tried to look away as the edges of his mouth curved upwards mischievously.

"You are mocking me!" fumed Morrigan, who hit him on the shoulder while Aedan burst out laughing. She continued to hit him while he half-heartedly blocked her palm. "There are very few who would dare mock a mage's magic."

"Sorry sorry sorry," he laughed, raising his arm up to try and stop the barrage of blows.

Eventually, Morrigan relented. "I know very well that you are not," she pouted, then continued on her rant, "And after I heal you, you insist on hovering around me and yapping like a dog by the fire."

"If you didn't want me to talk, you wouldn't answer."

Ignoring him, Morrigan added, "And then, after you are done your chatter, there is barely enough time for us to spend the night together."

"I wouldn't really call it spend the night if we don't actually spend the night together."

"It's called a euphemism, or did you not learn that as a noble?"

Aedan threw his hands up in the air. "I guess I'll just ask Wynne to heal me, and regard you with silence unless you want something?"

Morrigan made a sour expression. "Tis not what I was saying." The mage jabbed him directly on his chest. "I am saying do not blame me when it is your own fault."

"How about this," said Aedan, flicking away her finger. "I'll leave you alone tomorrow so you can make some good headway on that translation. How about that?"

Morrigan smiled. It was good that Aedan understood the importance of her mother's grimoire and that she finish translating it. "That is suitable."

* * *

_"Wait, what? Maric has a bastard?"_

_Adair released his grip on Aedan, and pointed him to the chair. Aedan had the funny feeling if he made a run for the dungeon's exit, he'd be dead in seconds. Complying with Adair's request, the rather tired noble slouched down in the wooden chair. Even though he was in his family's dungeon, he was the prisoner here, not Adair._

_Adair gazed outside through the small opening in the dungeon wall, meant to give prisoners some semblance of the daylight. The moonlight hit his unshaved, scarred face. His expression was hard to read, as the man's unkempt black hair covered most of his eyes. Aedan surmised that it had been a long time since Adair had seen a barber._

_"It's a very well kept secret. In a monarchy like Ferelden, the very existence of a bastard threatens the throne or saves it from existence. When they're not needed, they're a disgrace, and when they're needed, everyone calls for him."_

_"How do you even know this?" To say that he wasn't interested simply wouldn't be true: Maric, the great and honorable King Maric, having a bastard? Even though Aedan could die the next second, he still wanted to know more._

_"I am currently under the employment of a certain individual who believes that one exists."_

_"Well, so if I believe things, that'll make it true?" Aedan scoffed and clapped his hands together. "Well I'm actually a legendary Grey Warden who slays dragons in his spare time. Wonder if I'll get the back pay that's owed me."_

_Adair scowled at the young noble's glib words."You are quite a talker, aren't you?"_

_"Sorry, usually when an assassin is sitting across from me I get a little nervous. I don't really have that many assassin friends."_

_Ignoring Aedan's nervous outburst, Adair continued on."Well, if you believe something is true, you'll do what it takes to confirm such. My employer sent Victor to fake an assassination attempt. His logic was that Maric would take the appropriate steps to secure his bloodline after such a brush with death. Unfortunately, the king ended up dying a week later, so the Fereldan government's main concern was Cailan's transition to the throne, not securing any bloodlines. After that failed, he then sought me out."_

_Aedan tried his best to stay calm despite the man sitting across from him. He looked around for anything he could use as a weapon, but to no avail. Adair's words however interested him. "Who is your employer?"_

_"I don't know. Whoever my employer is, he has resources enough to track me down with mercenaries when everyone else believed me dead, just to deliver a letter and money. I think he may even be one of the men who hired Teharel and I originally, back when Maric originally ascended the throne, as he had knowledge about some of our operations- including one I didn't even know about. Apparently one of our members was tasked with hiding a certain bastard. It wasn't specified whose it was, but it was important enough that it had to be kept under wraps." Adair scratched his beard rather roughly and some skin flakes came out. Aedan tried not to think about this man's distinct lack of hygiene and looked away._

_"So what? I help you and your employer find this bastard and let you do Maker knows what with him- and you don't even know who your employer is? That's just great, ain't it, could even be the bloody Orlesians."_

_"While my employer pays me, that doesn't necessarily mean I'm loyal to him. I want to find this bastard on my own, and make sure there are no more trails tracing back to him."_

_"So you're trying to play him." Aedan shifted uncomfortably in place as he tried to nudge himself further from Adair. Maybe he could make a run for it. He tried moving his chair closer and closer to the door, while Adair looked away outside._

_"And no doubt he knows it, but he and I must cooperate if either of us wish to get what we want."_

_"You could just, you know, not look for the bastard."_

_"Then he'd send others. He asked me for two reasons: he knows that I'm the best, and he believes whole-heartedly he can outmaneuver me."_

_'"How do I know you aren't just lying to me?"_

_Adair pulled on Aedan's chair and dragged it back to him. In the momentary darkness while Aedan blinked, a dagger flashed underneath his throat. The only evidence it had happened was a small trickle of blood down Aedan's throat from where the dagger had grazed him. Adair's calloused hands gripped Aedan's throat like a vice._

_"I could have killed you and taken the documents, then brought them to him. It'd be easy, like killing a small animal."_

_Adair grinned and patted Aedan on the head, like he would a dog. The young man, frozen in utter fear, watched as Adair picked a ragged cloak and wrapped it around himself._

_"Meet me at the Gnawed Noble in three days at closing time," barked Adair, "and bring the documents. If not, I'll slaughter your entire family. Even if you don't believe me, I'll get what I want either way."_

* * *

Scaled, corrupted claws rushed towards him. A breath of dark purple fire that sizzled the very air around it. The archdemon's eyes stared right at him, looking into his very soul. Aedan's heart slammed against his chest as his vision blurred. The very creature at the end of it watched him. Was this a dream, or did it truly see him? It's mouth gaped open, revealing a cascade of rotting, decrepit fangs, and it lunged forward and-

"Aedan, wake up-"

Cold hands clasped onto his back, shocking him back into the world. Startled, Aedan retreated backwards in the darkness. Still in a cold sweat, his chest heaving up and down, it took a second for Aedan for his eyes to adjust and see who it was: a familiar outline that accompanied him during the nights

He gulped and tried to calm his still racing heart."What do you need, Morrigan? I had just gotten to sleep."

Morrigan looked over the panting Aedan. "Are...you alright?"

"I'm fine. What do you need?" answered Aedan tersely. Morrigan opened her mouth to say something, but then shut her lips and looked downwards. A little more concerned, Aedan softened his tone and asked, "Morrigan?"

Morrigan didn't answer for awhile. She kneeled there silently, just looking to the side and avoiding eye contact with Aedan. She fiddled with her hands and she bit her lip in thought. Clearly something had shaken her; why else would she be so reluctant to speak, and come and try and wake Aedan up in the early morning? Aedan straightened up in his bed roll and tried to make out her expression in the darkness. The witch, even without the darkness, was a difficult individual to discern.

"I finished translating my mother's book," the mage let out, before clamping up again. When she didn't answer for a while, Aedan saw her glance towards the entrance to his tent, and her body shifted that way. As gently as he could without startling her, Aedan placed his hand on her arm.

"Take your time." he reassured, "I'll wait as long as you need."

Morrigan nodded repeatedly, still not speaking, while Aedan took his hand back and waited. The two sat there in silence for what seemed like hours. Perhaps it was.

"My mother has lived for a very long time," whispered Morrigan, finally. "It is only now, after reading her methods, that I realize how she has done this for so many years. She steals a child...a girl...and raises her, fostering her magical ability until she is ripe and ready, and then possesses their body. This is how she maintains her youth- by stealing away her daughters' bodies till they wither away, again and again."

Aedan found himself at a loss for words. His tongue fumbled in his mouth whilst he thought of how to respond to...that. Morrigan's mother had just betrayed her in the sickest way possible.

'I'm sorry?' Such words would only aggravate Morrigan. Even I wouldn't understand this kind of grief. At the very least my parents never betrayed me.

He figured that finding an immediate solution would put someone like Morrigan's mind at ease first. "Can we stop her?," asked Aedan, "Do you have some sort of counter spell?"

"Tis not that simple. To create something like that would take much research, and even then it might not be possible."

And so the only option is...the reason she came in here is-

"I do not relish asking you this...but you are the only one I can ask this of." Morrigan wringed her hands and grew quiet. As the words came out of Morrigan's mouth, Aedan wasn't sure if he was actually hearing them. He wasn't ever sure any child would say this of their parent and actually mean it. He had always understood there to be a sacred bond between parent and child, a bond that which no doubt was the reason he stood here today.

With a despaired expression, Morrigan asked, barely a whisper, "Kill my mother."


	37. Past

"Do you understand what you're asking me to do? She's your mother, Morrigan."

"And she will not hesitate to kill me, as she has countless of her-"

Morrigan mouthed the word "daughters", yet no sound left her lips. The very word tasted sour and bitter at the same time. "There is no doubt that after this Blight is stopped, she will attempt to possess me. Perhaps she sent me along with you to allow my magical abilities to develop, so the compatibility would be greater." She wrung her hands together and inhaled deeply. "I have no other option. I cannot do it myself, lest she possess my body right then and there."

Aedan gulped. First, he had killed Marjolaine, yet only by instinct and because Leliana would have died then and there. Then, he had killed some of the werewolves, but only when driven against the wall. Now he was being asked to actively hunt down and kill somebody- an old woman who had saved his life. He sat there, his right hand quivering. After having held a sword for so long in his hand, Aedan could almost feel the hilt on his palm: that familiar cold steel brushing against his callouses.

Could he do this? Perhaps Morrigan was just using him to eliminate her mother; become the new de-facto Witch of the Wilds. Everyone he had ever met had told him not to trust her.

With a rare desperation in her now trembling voice, Morrigan murmured, "You are the only one left I can depend on...please." She still wouldn't look at him straight in the eyes. Aedan had never thought of the witch as frail until this moment; physically weak, yes, but she had such fierceness in her words, such passion in her magic. Looking at her now, her arms cradling herself and a distant, empty look in her eyes, Aedan couldn't say the words he wanted say, what he had always been taught not to do.

In the darkness, he outstretched his hands and gently took Morrigan's hands in his. Ignoring the unease in his gut, Aedan answered, "I'll do it."

His gesture had taken Morrigan aback, but she didn't feel the need to remove his hands once they were there. Her shoulders relaxed as the woman let out a long, cathartic, breath. "It does not need to be now. I understand we're already enroute to Orzammar. It just needs to be before the Blight ends."

Aedan nodded. "Then we'll do it after Orzammar."

He understood at least that Morrigan didn't want to talk about it. Perhaps that was how it should be. To talk about such a betrayal, to examine it from every angle, meant to think about it more and more. The only thing worse than a betrayal was the mental torture a person put themselves through thinking about it.

Half-expecting her to remove her hands, Aedan remained there in silence, his face slightly scrunched up in expectation of Morrigan's reprimanding. Morrigan sat there awhile longer, her hands in his. To be quite honest, Aedan had no idea what to do. Comforting people after they discovered their mother wanted to possess their body was foreign territory.

"Get some sleep, okay?" Aedan said, patting Morrigan on the back as he opened the flaps of his tent. The moonlight shone against her face, although her back was turned to Aedan, he could make out a sullen expression cast upon her face.

After Morrigan had left, Aedan clutched his knees to his chest as he sat there thinking. What surprised him was how easily he had said yes to Morrigan's request. Half a year ago, if someone had asked him to kill someone, he would have blinked at them in utter disbelief. Even now, the thought of someone asking him that sent a chill down his spine.

Yet when Aedan thought of her, of her presence, the chills stopped. His hand stopped wavering. The decision felt so much easier.

Aedan tried to shut his eyes and lay in bed, but the slumber that had once taken him was gone now. The imagery of the Archdemon had scared him witless; He shivered at the thought that if he shut his eyes and slumbered, he would see that monstrosity. One day he would have to confront it in person. He just hoped he had a lot of good men behind him to back him up then.

He stared up at the patched together top of his tent, counting the stitches. He rolled over from side to side, trying to make his blanket more comfortable. Despite his methods to calm his mind and go to sleep, his thoughts wandered to how he might manage to kill Flemeth. He doubted it be as easy as cutting her head off. Aedan sighed and buried his face in his pillow.

At the very least she wasn't a dragon.

* * *

The next few days, Aedan was wary to not bother Morrigan. Certainly, he remembered wanting his space after the death of his family. The ride back with Duncan had simply been the older Warden talking about logistics- things to distract Aedan from the atrocity that had occurred. Morrigan, however, was not the kind to enjoy idle chit-chat when she had other things on her mind. He gave her a wide berth: let her dally about her own business without bothering her with his requests.

So Aedan would sit by himself on guard duty. The nights seemed longer- like a piece of fabric stretched out too far, it's threads slowly breaking. When he couldn't sleep, he'd relieve whoever was on guard duty, and sit by the fire and drink from Zathrian's flask. There was no longer any necessity for more than one person on guard duty, seeing as how Shale never slept. Aedan did however miss taking guard duty with others, as trying to hold a conversation with Shale was as hard as holding one with a rock. The irony was not lost on Aedan.

As yet another night of guard duty ended, the faintest glimmers of the sun trickled over the horizon. Aedan liked the quiet mornings: the way the trees rustled, the cool mountain breeze flowing, and the gradual warmth that the sun Ray's imparted and how they seeped into his tired bones. The rest of his companions began to rise. One by one they gathered around the fire for breakfast. Sten sat across from Aedan and sharpened his sword against a grindstone, even though all were present. The noise grated in Aedan's ears, but he had come to accept Sten's eccentricities, just as he hoped Sten had accepted this country's.

"I see you are up early. Discipline breeds the best soldiers," grunted Sten, whose eyes never left the edge of his sword as he sharpened. By Sten's standards, that was the closest thing to a compliment that Aedan thought he'd ever get from the giant. The qunari grazed his finger along the edge until he reached the very tip. A small drop of blood welled at the end of his large thumb. Aedan could swear he saw the giant smile.

"Thought you had guard duty. You sleep okay?" asked Alistair, plopping down next to Aedan. The templar yawned and scratched the stubble underneath his chin. His stomach growled as he anxiously waited for whoever's turn it was to cook.

"I'm fine. Just got up early." Aedan heard the slight shifting of stones as Shale turned to look at him. The golem's craggy face had something reminiscent of eyebrows, which Aedan thought were furrowed in confusion. Aedan simply glared until the golem turned it's gaze away, silent.

Clearly struggling, Morrigan carried in both hands a hot pot of soup from over at her tent. The group usually liked to wake up to breakfast, so people took turns waking up and cooking. With one final heave the witch placed it in the middle and removed the lid, letting the steam billow out the top of the container. In a fit of hunger Alistair grabbed a bowl and scooped it up before Morrigan had the chance to say anything.

"Yes, please, go right ahead, you're welcome," scowled Morrigan.

"Pardon me, I am quite star-" The templar's face dropped. "What...is this?" Alistair looked on in horror at the arrangement before him. Onions, peppers, celery, and tomato slices bobbed in a light broth. He squinted his eyes and attempted to look for meat within it. To no avail, only tiny bits swam in his soup. His stomach growled and Alistair, confused, narrowed his eyes at Morrigan.

Morrigan poured out a bowl and handed one to Aedan. "Alistair, you're looking at me like Gregory."

Alistair continued to glare.

"It occurs to me that some of us are lacking in proper nutrition," stated Morrigan, "They might find it helpful to partake in a balanced diet."

Aedan stared down at the motley soup and sniffed it suspiciously. "There's only a few pieces of meat." The edges of his mouth shifted ever so slightly into a frown. He too would have liked something more...substantial.

Morrigan noticed his subtle reaction and glared at him. "Is there something wrong?" She stopped pouring her own bowl, and she held her ladle suspended in mid-pour. Aedan could feel the eyes of others upon him, waiting for his next words. Zevran looked Aedan in the eyes and shook his head, slicing his hand across his throat. Leliana and Wynne covered their mouths, clearly trying to hold back their laughter. Sten glared at him, clearly unhappy with the lack of substance in the soup.

How is this my fault Sten? thought Aedan, trying to relay that by his exasperated expression. The qunari still stared him down with accusatory eyes.

"Tread carefully," muttered Alistair under his breath. "You better make sure we get more meat next time."

"What makes you think I can change her mind?" Aedan made sure his lips didn't move, as not to inform Morrigan of their conversation. However, the shadow of Morrigan soon blotted out the sunlight above the two wardens.

"You two do understand that all of us can hear you." Morrigan crossed her arms and awaited the two men's response to that statement. Struggling to maintain their composure, Aedan and Alistair creaked their faces up and smiled at her. When Morrigan failed to respond with anything but a frown, Alistair continued to whisper at Aedan, "You know...you're...stirring your ladle in her bowl. Sticking your carrot in her soup."

"Perhaps you two would rather not eat at all. Ever," interrupted Morrigan again, her foot tapping rather loudly against a nearby rock.. She placed the bowl in front of Alistair and gave him the most unholiest of stares. Alistair's stomach ceased it's growling while the templar went pale.

"Are you famished, I'm famished," stuttered Alsitair, who downed everything in his bowl in one go. "Wow! Delicious! Fantastic! I will see you all tomorrow bright and early."

"It's morning, you idiot," snapped Morrigan as Alistair fled the premise.

"Don't care!" The templar waved all of them off and scampered off to the river to take a rare bath.

After staring down Alistair and scaring him off, Morrigan's deadly gaze fell upon Aedan, who watched as he brought the bowl to his mouth. Aedan widened his eyes as he sipped upon the mixture: the soup had a light, savoury flavor to it which he rather enjoyed.

"It's good. Really good." He smiled and took another sip. The lack of meat surprisingly didn't bother him. The pain of hunger eased from his stomach. While Aedan looked away at the bottom of his bowl, Morrigan opened her mouth to say something, then covered it rather quickly with her hand, hiding her smile. By the time he looked back up at her, she had removed her hand to reveal an ambivalent scowl.

"Well then, I expect you to return the favor next time and not burn the food next you cook." Morrigan grabbed a bowl of her soup and left off to her own tent. Aedan presumed she still had parts of the book to translate. At the very least, it seemed that her mother's betrayal didn't have her feeling too down.

* * *

_Frantically, Aedan had been up all night trying to translate the documents to no avail. Needless to say, decrypting several layers of well implemented coded message by pen and paper took a long time, especially having only the basic books in his father's library. Aedan banged his sleep-deprived and throbbing head against the desk._

_"Aedan, the royal guard wants to talk to you about Adair," called his father from downstairs._

_Aedan jumped in place and hurried to stuff the papers in the desk drawer. His father walked in to see the slightly jumpy Aedan rushing out of his chair. Aedan his best to look composed and rested._

_"Still shaken up about Adair, son?" Bryce patted his son on the back. "There was nothing you could have done. You know that."_

_It's not about what I could have done. It's what I have to do, thought Aedan._

_Despite the situation, Aedan didn't want to involve his father any further. Aedan had gotten into this mess, and he had a responsibility to get himself out. He eased himself out of the old oak chair and proceeded down the stairway, where two heavily armored guardsmen greeted him, adorned with a blue cape on the back to signify their higher rank. The leader of the group, indicated by the buckles which held his cape to the armor, stepped forward. He seemed surprisingly young for a member of the royal guard, with neatly parted blond hair and almost spotless skin. Kylon leaned against the wall behind them, also present._

_"We'd like to go over what happened when you discovered when he was gone again," asked the leader of the guards. Compared to Kylon, who slouched against the wall, the commander stood upright, almost too formal._

_"Like I was saying...I was going in to feed him, when I discovered his cell was empty. I dropped the food in shock, and scrambled around trying to find out how he had escaped. Other than that, I don't know anything." Aedan rubbed his eyes in sleepiness. He was thankful that he didn't have to change his story much, save for the part about meeting Adair._

_"Where's that wound from?"_

_Aedan paused- the question had thrown him offguard. "What?"_

_"On your neck," stated the commander, rather matter of factly._

_Aedan widened his eyes. He had forgotten that Adair sliced him lightly across the neck. It was a small nick: unnoticeable to the common eye. Even his own parents hadn't noticed it, and yet in one small moment the commander had._

_"Just from an earlier night. You heard about the situation with Bann Abelard."_

_The commander glared at Aedan suspiciously, then broke into a smile. "Sorry, don't mean to be suspicious. We're just here to help. And regarding Bann Abelard...he still refuses to talk. We're at the end of our rope. We may have to use more unpleasant methods."_

_Aedan grimaced. Torture was never a pretty thing to think about, let alone administer. He only imagined the kind of person who applied for a job as the official torturer of the dungeons._

_"Nothing's gone missing?" asked the commander. His eyes bounced around the room, inspecting for any signs of damage._

_"My wife and I have checked over all our valuables," said Bryce, "nothing is missing. I think he might have just wanted to escape."_

_The royal guard leader nodded several times, mulling over something in his head. Finally, he outstretched his hand to both Bryce and Aedan."I'm Commander Connal, I'd like to formally introduce myself. I'm going to be in charge of this case, seeing as how the city guard doesn't seem to be able to handle it."_

_Aedan examined the man briefly as he shook Connal's hand. Unlike Kylon, who seemed stressed and irritated to the point where he had gotten crow's feet at a young age, Connal had a certain radiance about him. His smile, although very subtle, looked truthful and genuinely glad. Perhaps the man enjoyed his work._

_"Good. I'd rather stick to catching thieves and keeping gangs in check than this shady business," muttered Kylon, "I certainly can't leave the Market District in the care of my subordinates, the bloody incompetent bastards."_

_Aedan snickered at the mention of bastards. Unlike the city guard, the royal guard garnered a much higher level of respect from the city. Most anybody could be placed into the city guard, including but not limited to the various bastards that various Fereldan nobles had fostered. Aedan wondered he could have met Maric's bastard already, well hidden amongst the guards. He shook his head at the thought; he doubted that they would be so foolish as to keep him close in the city._

_"Faith in your followers is a characteristic of a good leader, Kylon," chided Connal. Aedan chuckled under his breath-it felt odd to see someone younger than Kylon teach him a lesson._

* * *

Alistair marveled at the insides of Orzammar, having just made his way past the grand entrances. His gaze bounced from building to building, from the markets to the forges. The city housed as many citizens as Denerim, and yet manage to fit it all underground. Like the streets of Denerim, the alleyways of Orzammar bustled with life and merchants on the streets. Some of the dwarves looked at the wide-eyed Alistair and rolled their eyes: another surfacer.

"Amazing that they all don't develop claustrophobia or something. Wonder what happen if the ceiling caved?" mused Alistair in earshot of the dwarves. He snickered at their eye-rolling and carried on with his wonderment.

Aedan approached from behind and placed his hand on Alistair's shoulder. "Be careful here, Alistair. While Grey Wardens are well respected, we're going to be playing with the dwarven politicians... they don't like it when outsiders interfere." He glared around a bit. More people were staring at them than Aedan felt comfortable with. Back at Soldier's Keep, he and Alistair had picked up standard issue Grey Warden armor. Certainly, in Denerim and surface villages they would need to keep their insignia covered, but here in Orzammar the logo could only help them. Painted across their chest, though slightly dented and chipped due to the age of the armor, were the dual gryphons, their wings gloriously outstretched. Aedan failed to understand why the Warden would put the chalice in the middle though, as not many people actually knew of the Joining.

A large crowd of dwarves had begun to amass near the feet of Shale. The golem shifted uncomfortably as the dwarves looked upon the construct with wonderment. One child even began to run his hands against Shale's craggy metal feet. Panicking, Aedan hastily stepped in between the dwarves and Shale. Despite having very few expressions, Aedan didn't even need to look at Shale to know this sort of thing infuriated it. Years of being a statue would leave anyone bitter to prodding. Aedan shooed off the dwarven child, although all the other dwarves remained.

"You're Grey Wardens, right? Did you come from the deep roads? Did you?" asked one merchant excitedly. "They all said Branka was crazy, but here it is- an actual functioning golem."

"Sorry, we came from the surface." Aedan cringed as the dwarve's shoulders slumped.

"Oh," said the dwarf, his smile dissipating along with the rest of the crowd. He eyed the golem up and down suspiciously. "Then how did you get this- never mind. You surfacers probably already broke it somehow."

"Perhaps I should break you somehow," replied Shale curtly. The merchant's eyes widened in fear, and he took a few nervous steps backward, before running off back to his cart. Aedan scratched his chin and pondered: the dwarve's comment had gotten him thinking. "The dwarves used to make golem. Now that I think about, we don't really know that much about where you came from, Shale."

"It should not waste it's time. I remember nothing before the Mage Wilhelm found me...nothing but darkness."

"Oh. Seems sorta sad."

"Sad?" Shale crooked it's head toward Aedan and tilted it sideways, "I am a golem. I do not feel the same sentiments as it."

"A past...is an important thing to remember, Shale," mused Aedan. "It's what made you." He rubbed his right arm and reminisced while Shale considered his words.

"Hammers and anvils made me into what I am," responded Shale, "There is no doubt to that."

"I mean as a person."

"Ha! I don't need such a thing. I'm a golem; I don't need to grow as a person like humans."

"Have it your way." Aedan decided to let Shale handle its own problems. Despite its words, the golem kept peering around at the entire city, even more so than Alistair. He didn't want to linger on the subject and get Shale's hopes up at finding anything.

Whiling navigating through the bustling streets of Orzammar, Aedan grunted beneath his armor: the steam and furnaces of Orzammar had ensured his clothing was drenched in sweat. For all intents and purposes, he might as well have just stuck dinner in his armor to cook. Leaning against the nearby railing, Aedan loosened his gauntlets off and stared off into the molten metal below him. He felt a cool breeze as Morrigan walked past him and leaned against the railing next to him as well.

"You mind just walking back and forth behind me? It's sorta warm here." Aedan dabbed the sweat from his forehead using his armor rag. He didn't particularly care at this point that it was drenched in grease and blood; he just wanted some part of his body to be dry.

Scoffing at his request, the witch replied, "Coming from the one telling me only a few weeks ago to wear more layers." The witch rolled up her one sleeve and stuffed it by her waist. She watched as a royal guardsmen passed by a crier for Bhelen. The guardsmen rudely walked into the crier's shoulder, sending the papers he had been handing out flying everywhere. As the crier scampered about trying to pick them up, Morrigan scowled. "These dwarves squabbling over their precious Houses. Fools. They delay us even more, over a non-existent threat. At least the others had actual problems."

"Thought you were always one for the pursuit of power."

"Actual power, not this facade. For one, they waste so much potential soldiers by restricting others to become soldiers, others who are far more capable."

"You're talking about the casteless. The branded."

"Yes, and the casteless are even more the fools to allow themselves to be corralled by the warrior castes and nobles."

"They don't have a choice though. The warrior and noble caste have superior weapons and armor, as are better fed and prepared."

"They could fight."

"They'd die."

"Better to live a life well than to die a life barely lived." Morrigan turned to him in disbelief, her head shaking. "You approve of this utter stupidity?"

"No...but I understand why it hasn't changed. It's so deeply ingrained in them: in their culture, in their environment, in their upbringing. It's hard for people to change."

"Yes, that much is true. Tis hard to change from their life of frivolity and riches." She gazed outwards, not really looking at the scenery, a nostalgic look in her eyes. "There was this one time I ventured out beyond the Wilds as a child; the first time in fact. There were so many people, so many different smells and foods. I had only ever caught glimpses of different people. There was a little noble girl, carrying a golden mirror. It was beautiful, with such intricate gold lining and covered in jewels. So I snuck into her carriage and stole it."

"Can't imagine Flemeth was pleased."

"I had run back to her, my heart ablaze with my newfound treasure...the thrill of the theft...but when she found out what I had did, she took the mirror and smashed it to the ground. She screamed at me that such luxuries were meaningless, that I could have gotten myself discovered over such a pointless thing. My mother ingrained into me that day that beauty and riches are meaningless."

"Not a bad lesson to learn," muttered Aedan. Despite being second only to the king and one of the richest men in Ferelden, his father had been taken down by a weasel like Howe. Then again, Aedan didn't consider Howe in anyway powerful. Like Howe had clung to Aedan's father before, fawning over him, he now clung to Loghain.

"Yes...tis a good lesson indeed."

"How are you feeling about her now?" It seemed rude to ask such a question, but Aedan wondered why Morrigan didn't look as down as he expected.

"Tis strange." Morrigan played with a stray sweaty bang that lingered over her forehead as she spoke, "She has betrayed me. She has made me question every action she had ever taken...but..."

"But?"

"She still raised. Fed me. Protected me. Taught me. Despite my discovery, despite what she plans to do-" Morrigan sighed and twisted her bangs in thought. "She is still my mother, and I am thankful for what she has taught me."

Aedan avoided asking her anymore probing questions about the topic. He wouldn't want others to probe onto his own personal affairs. They let the clanging of hammers against anvils fill the silence, until Morrigan asked, "Tell me of your own mother."

"Why? There's nothing much to tell," said Aedan, attempting to navigate around the subject.

"Tis only fair. You prod me with all your inane questions." The witch scooted over and nudged him with her elbow. "Come on. A story for a story." She laughed and continued to prod him in the side.

It had been the first time in awhile someone had asked him about his family in awhile- actually asked him. Not like the awkward first meetings between strangers where they'd ask half-heartedly- "You have family?". Not like when Kylon had asked him back at the Pearl, with a strange mix of pity. Not like when Zevran would ask him how he'd avenge them.

She asked, not questioning their existence or under the assumption they were dead, to just talk about them.

Aedan made a sour face while thinking of an appropriate story. Compared to Morrigan's tales of the wilds, of the magic that her mother performed and the legends she had been in, his own mother seemed tame in comparison. Finally, Aedan just decided to go with the first thing that came to mind.

"There was this one time, I had gone outside all day in the woods to play in the woods with my brother. By the time we came back, we were covered in all sorts of leaves and mud. We probably looked disgusting. As we walked into the castle, our mother had the most horrified look on her face. She screamed at to go take a bath and go to our rooms, but Fergus and I were so scared we ran off around the castle. So there my mother was, chasing us around the castle to take a bath while we got our muddy footprints everywhere. If she had just calmed down and stopped chasing us, we would have stopped, but she just kept chasing us. By the time she caught us, she was so drenched in sweat that she said, "I'll be taking the bath first.""

The laughter arose naturally from deep within his chest as a warm feeling crept through Aedan. He smiled and looked far off in remembrance.

"...Was there a point to that?" Morrigan furrowed her brow in confusion, expecting there to be more to the tale other than frivolity."

"There doesn't need to be a point to every story. I just thought it was funny."

A rare smile fell across Morrigan's face. "Well, I certainly can imagine you causing havoc for others." Morrigan glanced over at Aedan's cheerful disposition, a question on the tip of her tongue. Would he answer now, with his brightened spirits? Her curiosity got the better of her: with a bit more hesitance, Morrigan asked, "Did I hear mention of a brother?"

"Yes, well..." Aedan trailed off and looked around for something to change the subject. Luckily for him, Shale was once again being swarmed by dwarven merchants. "I should go." The warden scampered off to shoo off the dwarves, who at the moment were appraising Shale. Glancing over at the commotion, Morrigan leaned over the edge of the railing and grumbled.


	38. Broken

_Sneaking past the guard positioned outside his house had been difficult. Ever since Adair's escape, the royal guard themselves had been ordered to camp outside the Cousland's Denerim estate. Commander Connal now greeted the family every morning with that shining smile of his. Aedan had begun to find it infuriating how energetic the young man seemed._

_The sun had come and gone three times now, making it the third night since Adair's escape. As promised, Aedan navigated through the crowded Denerim streets to make it to the Gnawed Noble. Even in the evening, the streets still bustled with the night time vendors. They peddled their more niche goods than the daytime: strange cuisines, novelty items, and discount items of dubious origin._

_Not as promised though, as Aedan did not bring the translation, mainly because he couldn't understand the damn things._

_The sparse notes he had brought ruffled in his bag, not that they would be any help. Barring the accidental ink stain, the Aedan's scribbles had made sense to him when writing it, but a few hours later as he leaned over his desk and squinted at his writing, his own gibberish made less sense than the encoded documents._

_As soon as Aedan opened the door the Gnawed Noble, the bustling noise burst though and almost overwhelmed him. The jovial laughter and drunken slurs contrasted against the tense, quiet mood that had overtaken the Cousland family. The threat of a murderer with a grudge against them tended to dour the mood._

_And yet, despite the manhunt out for him, Adair had his grizzled, bearded face out in the open, happily drinking beer. He gave a wink and a smile to a passing bar wench with a sort of roguish charm. The girl blushed and waved his fingers back at him, before scurrying off at the behest of her supervisor._

_"I see you're doing well to disguise yourself," said Aedan, slumping into the booth._

_"Well, suspicious hooded figures tend not to be let into bars without arousing suspicion." Adair still hid parts of his face behind his flagon. He eyed the other customers, looking for any guards amongst them. He spotted several, but based on their loud shouting and slurred speech, Adair assumed they were too intoxicated to care._

_"I bet I could pull it off," muttered Aedan under his breath._

_"Well, hope you never have to," said Adair, raising his glass. He took a swig of the frothy liquid and gulped down the refreshing mixture. For a second, Aedan felt like Adair was just a normal bar-goer, just casually drinking with friends. The next, his eyes took on the intensity of a wolf. "The translations. Give them to me."_

_The moment Aedan had been dreading had come. "I can't do it. They're too complicated. You need to take them to someone else."_

_"That wasn't the deal," growled Adair, seething through his teeth. Finally, Aedan had enough. He slammed the papers onto the rickety wooden table and shoved them towards Adair. "You translate it! Read this here and show me how to do this!" He jabbed his fingers onto the paper, wrinkling it._

_Adair paused. For the first time, Aedan saw a bead of sweat run down the man's forehead. Was he nervous? A feeling arose in Aedan's gut. Aedan looked back at the paper, than back at Adair. Aedan scribbled a sentence onto the paper._

_"Read it."_

_Still silent, Adair reached for his ale and chugged it. Aedan's face twisted in disbelief._

_"So this entire time...the reason you couldn't do this all by yourself...the reason I'm stuck worrying that a killer is going to rip my throat out..."_

_Aedan tried his very best not to smash his flagon over the table._

_"-is that you can't fucking read," he seethed. Adair rolled his eyes in response. Despite his rage, Aedan could do nothing but silently fume. Adair sipped his ale and waited for Aedan's breathing to simmer down. Aedan closed his eyes and took deep breaths. Now wasn't the time to fret over the small details."How did you even write your reports?"_

_Adair shrugged. "I just nagged Teharel to write them for me." Ambivalent to Aedan's anger, the assassin rolled his eyes. "Not all of us lived in fancy houses with tutors."_

_"I have half a mind to rip these things up. They have been nothing but trouble for me. You have been nothing but trouble for me!" Aedan leaned over the table and jabbed his finger at Adair, now not giving a damn about the consequences._

_On the young man's sudden movement, Adair grabbed his hand and wrenched Aedan back down to the other side of the table. The veteran's eyes darted about. "We're being watched."_

_"What? How do-"_

_"That woman outside the window. Orlesian mask. She's been following you for the last few hours. Probably associated with the mercenary group that attacked Bann Alfstanna's manor. My employer's not the only one who wants this info."_

_Aedan's forehead throbbed. Another assassin? Sweat rolled down his neck and forehead as he gulped. "Is she here to kill me?" His foot jittered under the table, and Adair glared at him to stop as Aedan was vibrating the table._

_"No...I think I know who she is," said Adair, glancing everywhere with his eyes. His pupils blurred as they shot about. "She's more of an...enhanced interrogator." Satisfied with his assessment, Adair yawned and slouched back in the bench. Aedan wasn't sure what shocked him more: the fact another dangerous individual was after him or how casual Adair was about it._

_"So she's going to torture me, but not kill me?" stuttered Aedan. Spikes? Knifes? Fire? He didn't want to think about it but the thoughts kept filling his head of unspeakable acts of pain._

_Tilting his head in thought, Adair paused to think, before musing, "No, she'll probably kill you afterwards."_

_Aedan downed the rest of his ale and not caring about the noise he made, slammed the flagon on the table. The container shook in his hands and droplets of ale spilled all over the document and table. "Fucking fantastic," he creaked._

_"Spoiled little noble boy has got his underwear all up in a bunch. You really don't handle stress well, do you?" Adair laughed while he waved for another order. "Don't worry, you'll learn."_

* * *

The thought had crossed Aedan's mind whilst traveling. One day, along the line, he'd taste his old life once again. Bureaucracy was unavoidable. One day he'd have to sit down with a politician and play nice. He'd pretend to laugh at their jokes, listen to their big speech. All of it was a prelude of course. The small talk blurred away in Aedan's ears whilst the politicians would drone on and on. They'd talk about some extravagant party they had just thrown, or some gossip about some lady he didn't particularly care for. Aedan would stare at a spot on the wall directly behind them to give them some semblance of his interest.

What always awoke him from his boredom was always something along the same lines- the same place many of his conversations had gone. The truth of what they wanted.

"I need you to do something for me," asked Harrowmont, sipping his glass of wine and leaning back in his chair.

Sighing, Aedan finished off his glass and set it on the table. "You want me to help you against Bhelen, I'm guessing." The last few droplets of dark red wine swirled at the bottom of the custom blown glass. At the very least, Harrowmont was asking for him, not just his father. As a child, many nobles attempted to chat Aedan up and curry his favor. They'd bring toys, invite him to parties, and flatter him. As a child, Aedan ate it all up and basked in the attention. But after the party had ended, or the toys had been played with, the same kind of remarks would always be made. "Could you ask your father..." or "You'll put in a good word with your fath..."

Over time, he'd grown tired of it. Tired of dealing with politicians and particular conspiracies. Tired of a life being the courier for requests for his father, the Teyrn of Highever, or his brother, the future Teyrn. Now he had finally gotten a life of adventuring and protecting people. He had always thought would make him happy.

Sitting there in the undersized dwarven chair, his eyes drooping from his lack of sleep and blood caked on his greaves, Aedan wasn't sure what made him happy anymore. The depressing thought made Aedan instinctively look down at his almost empty wine glass for refuge. As his eyes lay upon the red droplets, the images of blood shot through his head. A cold feeling ran through his fingers. Aedan's hands felt wet with blood.

A dizzy feeling overtook him. His stomach lurched and Aedan patted by his waist for his sword hilt and clenched it under the table. He felt the sickness leave him and his heart slow.

The dwarven politician tilted his head, confused at Aedan's sour face. Aedan weakly smiled and said, "Sorry, just some stomach issues." The warden kept his hand on his hilt,

"Bhelen cannot be trusted. His father himself begged me not to let him take the throne and fight for our dwarven city myself. "

"The dwarves have sustained our culture for thousands of years. Honor and tradition: that is what our forefathers taught us, and that is how I operate. Bhelen threatens to overturn everything our ancestors worked so hard for, and will pull apart our city with corruption and rotten deals."

Another speech. Aedan struggled to keep his body from shutting down out of sheer boredom. The wine had not helped either, though if he had to stomach more of Harrowmont's talk he'd need more of it.

Truth be told, he had done some brief research on Harrowmont and Bhelen before he had come. Most of the dwarves in the Diamond District spoke quite highly of Harrowmont. If anybody could keep Orzammar from falling into chaos, it was Harrowmont, they had said, yet it bothered Aedan, how a man who spoke of honor like Harrowmont could ignore the wrongs before his very eyes, like the plights of the casteless.

* * *

Having left Harrowmont's estate rather bored, Aedan made his way to the royal palace, where he had made an appointment with Prince Bhelen. The servant had ushered him into Bhelen's private study to wait. Still uncomfortable with the tiny chairs he was told to sit in, Aedan stood up and paced in front of the wall. Ancient, faded tapestries hung in front of him. Old drawings of the dwarves and golems, drawn in a distinctive, polygon-like fashion, depicted scenes of battle and prosperity.

A curved sword mounted on the wall drew his attention; Aedan grazed the tip with his finger and admired the intricate handiwork. As mired in the old ways the dwarves were, their smithing had always would be the best in Thedas.

"Very nice piece. From ancient Kal-Sharok, excavated from the deep roads."

Aedan turned around to see Bhelen approaching, though he had to look down a bit. A dwarven servant followed behind him, holding a tray of glasses and bourbon. The servant bowed before Aedan and held the tray out to him. Feeling as though it'd be rude to decline, Aedan took the glass, but set it down on the table for now.

"It  _is_  quite a sword." Aedan paused to admire the serrated edge, carefully crafted for maximum cutting power.

"Anything would look fine compared to yours." Bhelen pointed at Aedan's current sword on his hip. The somewhat rusted sword, while mediocre, did seem to fit with the rest of Aedan's old and ragged gear. "Did you pull that off a corpse or something?" He laughed, expecting Aedan to laugh with him. The warden looked to the side and didn't say anything, though Bhelen could hear a low grumble under the surfacer's breath.

"By the Stone. "Bhelen shook his head. "My father told me that the sky addled your brains."

"I had a nice sword, but it broke awhile back." Aedan held up and jingled the bag of shards. For the entire eight months since his family had been killed, he had carried these shards with him.

"You are aware that you're in the greatest smithing center in Thedas?" stated Bhelen, "Here, I'll refer you to a merchant I know. He's in one of the back alleys, but he's damn good." The prince walked with a manner that befitted royalty: his head held up high and his shoulders square, ingrained into him by years of posture lessons. Aedan too remembered his elderly tutor teaching him how to stand up straight. The prince reached his desk and pulled out an frilled quill that had a shine of iridescent blue to it.

"Surprised someone like you knows a merchant personally." Aedan peered over at Bhelen's writing. With perfect calligraphy and clean lines, the youngest (and only living) Aeducan finished the directions for Aedan. With a flourish he signed his name at the bottom.

"I'm not a fool like Harrowmont. Our people are dying, and it's because of our culture. We need the merchants and lower classes, despite how lowborn they may be."

He picked up Aedan's glass and handed it to him. "You're aware of how our economy really works, right?"

Aedan crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, taking a small sip of the golden liquid. Bhelen had his interest, simply by the fact that he had brought the topic of the dwarven economy up. "It's strange to think how the Carta is such a key part of your economy."

With little sunlight and space, farming was almost non-existent for the dwarves. Much of Orzammar's food came from the surface, but they actively discouraged trade with surfacers. Furthermore, any dwarf who left for the surface except for on official royal business was cast out and considered casteless. The surface caste, as they were called, had no more encouragement to deal with the bureaucracy of Orzammar right's and import regulations than the more lax surface trading structure. How then did supplies come in from the surface if no one wanted to trade officially with Orzammar?

The solution to the question was the Carta, who profited from this untapped surface market. They cared not for regulations. Their smuggled goods eventually trickled up through every level of the Orzammar hierarchy. By turning a blind eye to smugglers from the Carta, a precious supply line sustained the population of Orzammar. The politicians could maintain the illusion they followed the law, while allowing the Carta go about their business. Nobody in the Diamond Quarter dared to address this issue though, lest their house be accused of breaking away from the mold.

Bhelen too poured himself a glass and clinked it against Aedan's, such that the tip of Aedan's glass hit the bottom of his. Traditionally, dwarves would clink their glasses at the bottom of one they considered superior, and vice versa. "So you understand my situation. My kingdom needs to change to survive. We cannot sustain ourselves on the Carta's imports."

"'My kingdom?' You talk like you already have the throne."

"That throne is rightfully mine and I will be damned if that disgusting little usurper tries to get his grubby little fingers on it," said Bhelen casually as he took a sip. He closed his eyes and savoured the taste. He wiped his mouth on his fine linen sleeve before speaking again. "No doubt you have heard some...distasteful things about me, but I assure you, Warden, that I am the only one that bring Orzammar back to the glory days, and I will drag them kicking and screaming."

The words that came out of Bhelen's mouth felt right, but his expression and his manner irked Aedan. The way he distastefully treated his servants, how he spoke with such anger and disgust towards Harrowmont. Bhelen carried himself so haughtily, yet Aedan knew that he had to choose him. As much of a worm Bhelen was, he was solving problems.

"Say that I support you...I'll have need of an army."

"The contract obliges me, Warden."

"I'd like a fairly large army, if you know what I'm saying."

"You'd like me to pass my proposed reform to allow casteless to join the army first. Well...while our economy may falter while the trading reforms aren't passed, so will being dead."

With the casteless, the army's ranks would swell a third as much. Wherever the Archdemon was, they had a higher chance of taking it down with a larger army. Aedan grimaced in thinking that he'd be sending more people to their deaths, but the casteless had lived rough lives. A chance for them to rise up might be worth the danger.

Aedan outstretched his hand, which Bhelen shook with an iron grip.

"Well, Warden," smiled Bhelen. He had a crooked smile, as crooked as the sinister heart that beat beneath his fine silks and royal armor. "Ready to play politics?"

* * *

After his meeting with Bhelen, Aedan had taken serious thought to the prince's suggestion and had gone to visit the smith. Perhaps he'd feel better with his family's sword by his side. He had most of the pieces, including the hilt. He carried too many things already, both physically and mentally. The least he could do was lose the dead weight of swords he didn't like and use one he preferred. An hour trip navigating through the cramped crafting district had brought him to the tiny smith shop Bhelen had told him about.

Inside, Aedan drummed his fingers against his armor whilst biting his tongue. He kept looking over at the smith, who inspected the sword shards underneath a small examining glass. An intense heat wave blasted against Aedan as the furnace lit up behind the smith. Startled, Aedan jumped backwards, while the smith kept humming and examining the metal like nothing had happened.

The smith slid his looking-apparatus shut and collected the shards into the bag. The soot covered dwarf, grumbling something under his breath, handed the bag back to Aedan.

"What'll be the price?" asked Aedan, eager to get the process started. He reached into his bag and grasped as many coins as his fingers could hold. Counting was pointless- he would play anything to see this sword fixed.

"None."

"Really?" beamed the warden, "I'm surprised you'd do it for-"

"It can't be fixed," interrupted the dwarf. He rubbed the back of his head and looked away from Aedan.

It took Aedan several seconds to process what the smith had said. His brow furrowed. "What?"

"You see, a sword has a core, and the metal is folded around it in a special way. But your core is broken in several key stress points. Pouring a new layer over it wouldn't work."

"Then just smelt it down and forge a new one."

"There's the other problem." The dwarf took a small hammer and banged against one of his complete swords. Then he banged against one of Aedan's sword shards and it shattered. Aedan gaped at the shattered shard. It had never occurred to him to test the metal. "The metal is ruined. You mentioned a mage froze it?"

"Yeah, it got frozen then broken," recalled Aedan.

"There's your problem. The magic fundamentally altered the metal makeup of the ore. We see it a lot when surfacers bring us their weapons. The most I'd recommend this sword for is kitchen ware."

"So I could bring it to the Tranquil, or to another mage to-"

"Every mage has their own magical signature, their own touch. You'd have to get the one who did this to fix it, and they'd have to know exactly how to do it." The grizzled smith patted Aedan on the side of his arm and sighed, "Son, this sword's gone. I'm sorry." The smith waited for the surfacer to react. Aedan could only look down at the floor, dumbfounded.

"I-I-"

Aedan picked up a broken shard and tenderly held it between his fingers. Here lay the last lingering connection to his family. He rang his fingers over the dents and scratches in the old metal. A hollow feeling rung in his chest. The clanging of metal and smell of steel faded. He shuffled over to the anvil and collected the pieces that the smith had broken.

"It's okay." His throat clenched up. "It didn't really matter anyways."


	39. Methods

_"Here's what we're going to do," muttered Adair while covering his mouth with his empty mug, "You'll be the bait, and I'll be the killer. Go outside and play, and I'll snuff out that woman."_

_"Please no."_

_"Grow a pair."_

_"I have a problem with this."_

_"What is it this time?"_

_"Mainly the whole bait thing. And assassin thing. Really this entire situation." Aedan scratched and dragged his fingers against the table. He needed to get home soon, lest the guards figure out that he had left without permission. Also, the whole assassin business had put a damper on his day._

_"Stop whining," said Adair, "We'd be out of here by now if you just translated those documents."_

_"Why me? Go get a scholar to do it or something," replied Aedan curtly, looking around for any sign of the masked Orlesian woman in the windows. He carefully scooted his back against the wall._

_"Aren't you nobles really good at reading and ancient books?" asked Adair, cocking his head to the side._

_Pausing to take in the what Adair had just said, Aedan glared and realized something: "You're really not that bright are you?"_

_"Go," growled Adair, pushing Aedan out of the table. Once Aedan had gotten to the door, Adair slid out the wooden booth and stealthily disappeared into the bar's crowd._

_The night market had dispersed and left only a few lingering torches to light the way back to his home. Aedan began what felt to be the longest walk of his life. Perhaps if he had a sword and shield in hand he might feel better, but the only thing he had of remote usefulness on him were several sovereigns. He doubted that he could just throw money at the problem, literally._

_The quiet unnerved him, and so did the lack of movements in sparse light he could see. "Just going for a nice, leisurely stroll, Aedan," he hummed to himself, tugging on the neck of his linen shirt to let the cool air calm his body, "Just a nice, leisurely stroll as bait for an assassin."_

_An indescribable feeling overtook Aedan. His hairs stood on end. The adrenaline-pumping feeling shot through his veins, the same that he felt with Teharel's punches or Adair's sword. His right ear twitched at an indistinct noise in the air. Aedan twitched to the side, and a split second later a dagger zipped past where his head had been._

_A woman leapt from the rooftops onto him. Her knife flashed before his neck as his back slammed to the ground. His leg shot out and Aedan felt his foot connect with her stomach; the woman weighed surprisingly little, as his one thrust threw her clear. He rolled back up and put his fists out in a ready stance. The woman hacked onto the ground and brandished her daggers._

_"Well well, where is your friend? It's ever so dangerous to walk the streets at night, especially alone," she cooed._

_"I can take care of myself," snarled Aedan, his back aching from being jumped on. Where the hell was Adair? Aedan looked up to see his attacker's expression, but an Orlesian mask covered it._

_"Handsome young lad like you? You never know when a beautiful woman like me will swoop in and gobble you up." The woman sauntered near him, her hips swaying, "A delicate girl like me enjoys infiltration far more than brute duels...although they did not warn me that a noble boy like you had skills. Perhaps we could renegotiate for those documents of yours in a more...private place."_

_Aedan put up his clenched fists. "Fat chance."_

_"Just like a Fereldan," sighed the woman, "So stubborn."_

_The woman lunged. Aedan barely had time to react and dodge roll. Her leg swung around and slammed into his solar plexus. Aedan clenched his fists and struggled to stay upright as all the wind left his lungs._

_The glint of the dagger swung above him. He aimed for the elbow and gripped it and her wrist. With a twist, the dagger dropped from her hands and Aedan threw the woman over his back. Like a cat she landed without a noise on all fours and drew another set of daggers, while instead the momentum of his own throw sent Aedan tumbling onto his own bottom. He scurried backwards, his hands patting the ground for anything, something, to defend himself with. His hand met wood and gripped whatever the object, stood back up, and brandished it._

_Aedan and the Orlesian woman paused as they both stared at the plank in his hand. He couldn't tell her expression beneath her Orlesian mask, but he was certain she was laughing._

_"At the mansion, you ended up using a bottle of booze. Now it's a plank. When are you going to use an actual weapon?"_

_"I just grabbed the first thing I saw, give me a break." Aedan cocked the plank behind his head like a bat, glaring at her. The two circled each other, until finally both shot towards each other in a blur of speed. Her daggers thrust forward. Aedan swung his plank, but for a split second he dropped the plank two inches and grinned._

_A fistful of pebbles and sand barraged the Orlesian woman's eyes, flung from the hand Aedan had hidden behind the plank; if it had been a sword or dagger, he would not have been able to hide it. She missed Aedan as she stabbed forward by only a couple of inches, but that misstep was all that Aedan needed. He pirouetted around the reeling Orlesian and slammed his plank in the back of her head on the non-sharp side._

* * *

Aedan needed a drink.

The shards jingled against his leg incessantly. There was no point to carrying them anymore, yet he would not give up.

Or so he had thought. Smith after smith he took the shards to told him the same thing. He marched from Diamond Quarter to Dust Town, looking for anyone he might be able to fix it. Their answer mocked him with every step he took, lightly hitting the side of his leg. His arm throbbed more than usual.

Aedan trudged over to the nearest bar and squeezed his way through the door. Sliding onto the rather short stool at the end of the bar, Aedan despondently waved at the busy bartender. The bar however bustled with patrons and ale everywhere, with the bartender hurriedly filling order upon order for his regulars.

"Barkeep," Aedan shouted to get the man's attention. Upon seeing the grey and blue insignia upon Aedan's chest, the bartender quickly changed his course and beelined straight to Aedan.

"Grey Warden...heard you rolled into town," he grinned, wiping the booze and various bar foods from off his apron. The mere presence of a Grey Warden in his bar already had the patrons talking; he could use the publicity.

"Glass of your strongest whiskey," asked Aedan. The bartender rushed off into his basement stores to get the good stuff. He returned with a small ornate glass handle of whiskey and a well polished glass filled with the dark brown liquid.

What came next Aedan would never forget. A belch echoed through the room. A wave of beer breath and foul rot passed underneath Aedan's nose. Aedan felt his stomach lurch, and he squeezed his nose tight. The smell even got into his mouth, and Aedan coughed hysterically, his body rejecting the monstrosity that he had just inhaled. He looked beside him to see the perpetrator. An incredibly intoxicated dwarf wobbled in his chair, his bright red beard glistening with droplets of beer. Clearly, the dwarf didn't even care that his drink dripped across his dented armor.

"You mind?" sighed Aedan, sipping on his drink. It'd take awhile before this drink would hit him and lighten his mood, so he had to endure the dwarf until then.

The dwarf peered around to his left and right, looking for who had said that, glaring frantically at all in the room and growling like a rabid dog as he did so. Aedan sighed and pointed at himself, even though the dwarf had looked at him several times already. "Oh look. Bhelen's latest toad,' spat the dwarf upon seeing Aedan's insignia, "All you political types can go fuck off," he slurred. Teetering, the dwarf raised his glass again. "Two bartender- one for me and another to throw in this man's face." The bartender slid a glass of water Oghren's way and slid a small shot of whiskey Aedan's. The bartender mouthed an apology to Aedan and glared at Oghren. Oghren downed the entire glass of water and frowned. "Heeeey...this ain't booze."

"I think you've had quite enough, Oghren. Go home. The bartender pointed towards the door. His irritated frown indicated to Aedan that this incident had happened before.

Turning his back on the bartender and facing Aedan, Ogren ranted, "Never, never, never, have yooooou bastards listened to me." He jabbed Aedan in the chest. "You just keep weaving your words and trying to get info about Brrrrranka-"

Oghren continued on a few more minutes drunkenly ranting about something that Aedan couldn't quite decipher. The warden rolled his eyes and downed his whiskey and pushed his glass back for another.

As much as the dwarf was antagonizing him, Aedan couldn't help but be reminded of Teharel. Nevertheless, even while drunk Teharel had kept his composure. The dwarf slopped about, garnering disgusted stares from the other patrons. Finally, the dwarf collapsed to the floor in a drunken mess of armor and spilled ale. "Hehehe," he giggled into the floorboards, before releasing a foul odor from his behind.

"Surfacer, you mind getting him out of here? I'll consider your drinks on the house, and any other you might have when you come here." The bartender shook his head at the drunken dwarf and continued on business as usual. While the Grey Warden was prestigious and all, he wouldn't dare ask one of his regulars, his main source of income, to do it. He slid another glass of whiskey Aedan's way.

"Can't you get one of his friends to do it?" groaned Aedan as he leaned against the bar counter. The dwarf had started to drool onto the floor, and while Aedan had experienced his fair share of guts and gore, drunk dwarf drool was one thing he would not tolerate. He was half-sure that the dwarf's drool was already fifty percent alcohol.

"Oghren?" laughed the bartender. Others in the bar, nobles and merchants alike, similarly chortled at Aedan's statement. The bartender shook his head at the drunken mess on the floor. "He has no friends."

Aedan paused, letting the bitter frankness of the statement sink in. He looked about the bar for anyone else to care for the dwarf, but his gaze met none. Oghren snorted in his drunken stupor, snapping Aedan out of his search. Aedan turned back to the bartender, only to see that the bartender had moved onto serving other customers with far more cordial smile than he had served Oghren. Aedan picked up the whiskey that had been gifted to him and slammed it down.

"Come on buddy, let's get you to..." Aedan sighed and cocked his head to the side. "At least tell me where he lives!"

Aedan had never dragged a dwarf across several city blocks. He tried several methods: pushing him forward hadn't worked since Aedan could only waddle forward with the dwarf in front of him. Carrying him on his back was out since Oghren weighed as much as a boulder, and Aedan feared the dwarf's drunken drool. Finally Aedan settled on dragging him by the shoulders and walking backwards.

"It seems the Grey Warden even offer charity in these dark times," giggled one noblewoman. Aedan rolled his eyes and continued wobbling backwards with his passenger in stow. Once he had gotten to the address the bartender had given him directions to, Aedan collapsed on the stairs to the door, exhausted. A lack of sleep and too much dwarf dragging tended to have that effect.

Aedan took a deep breath for what seemed like the most difficult battle to date- dragging Oghren up a flight of stairs. "There is...no...Maker," groaned Aedan as he heaved Oghren up the stairs of his surprisingly lavish house, panting beneath the sheer weight of armor, muscle, and beer belly. Aedan knocked on the door, only for it to creak open upon his touch. "Hello? Anybody in here?" When no one replied, Aedan sighed and dragged Oghren inside of the house.

The massive entry room held nothing but a mess of clothing and other assorted junk. Grandiose stairwells and the finest statues and paintings he had seen to date were lined with a thick layer of dust. Bottles of ale and liquor rolled about on the floor while Aedan navigated the pigsty. Old food and nug bacon littered the floor while a rat scurried away from Aedan. Clearly nobody else but Oghren lived here, though he wondered how such a drunk had such an estate to himself.

"I'm assuming you live here by yourself." Aedan sat down upon the one clean chair. The dwarf mumbled in reply: Oghren had sobered up enough that he could crawl across the floor to his worn out cot, which lay atop two other plush mattresses. The bizarre arrangement sat atop a gilded bed frame, with mini golems carved atop the bars.

"Yep...little old Oghren living the good ol bachelor life," giggled the dwarf, who spotted a piece of nug bacon and stuffed it into his mouth. Aedan picked up what looked to be the only clean bottle of whiskey, took a few swigs, then poured some into the flask that Zathrian had gifted him. The flask was perhaps the most practical gift anyone had given him to date. He didn't even bother to hide what he was doing in front of Oghren, considering that the dwarf has half-unconscious by now.

"They left me all alone," muttered Oghren, "Up and abandoned me." He whipped around towards Aedan and stumbled several feet to the side, carried by his own momentum. "Well guess what! Guess who's living the life now!" shouted Oghren to every corner of the room, looking around for the faces that no longer resided there.

Oghren. The warden scratched his head in thought. Now he remembered where he had heard that name. The Paragon Branka had taken her entire house to journey into the Deep Roads...save for her husband. Left alone, it seems the dwarf had spiraled further and further into depression.

Oghren collapsed onto his cot, and moments later snores erupted from him that sounded like an animal dying. Aedan sighed and tucked the dwarf in with his beer stained blanket. "Me too buddy. Me too."

* * *

The worst part about Orzammar was that it was always light out. Nighttime didn't exist for the dwarves. Always awake, always working. It's certainly wasn't helping Aedan's sleep cycles. He hadn't been able to sleep, so he had spent the rest of the night at the bar until last call. From there Aedan had found a food stall in the trade district where he could grab a bite and sober up a bit. Even after all that, he was still early to the designated meeting spot. To his surprise, one person had arrived early as well. Morigan leaned against the signpost, anxiously looking around for some reason. Her eyes met Aedan's, flitting away and back as he approached.

Morrigan twirled a stray lock of hair from her bun, trying not to give Aedan too much attention. "You're back. Was wondering when you'd get here," she said in a matter of fact tone. Upon getting a closer look at Aedan's sullen face, Morrigan frowned. "You have that look on your face again."

"What look?"

Morrigan crossed her arms and pouted, "As usual, something is wrong and you are trying to hide it." Her golden eyes stared straight into his, searching.

"Don't worry about me, nothing's wrong," laughed Aedan half-heartedly, trying to brush it off.

"What worries me is that stench on you-" She leaned in and sniffed his neck, letting her nose and mouth linger for a brief moment. He smelt of alcohol and sweat, and yet beneath, or nay because of it, there lay a distinctive scent that Morrigan knew as Aedan's own. She sniffed again unconsciously, the familiar intoxicating smell having drawn her in. "I have never understood the appeal of that disgusting liquid," she said, breaking herself from her reverie and drawing back.

Eager to change the subject, Aedan said, "Here, got you something. When you told me that story about the mirror, it reminded me that you don't actually have one to look at all your jewelry with. I was stopping by smiths today, and I happened to come across this in one of their wares." Aedan pulled a bundle of silken cloth out of his bag. He had saved up all the money for repairing his sword one day. Now that he could he couldn't fix it, he might as well make someone else happy with it.

Morrigan unwound the soft wrappings, until finally the golden mirror revealed itself. Her mouth gaped open. "This...this is the exact same type of mirror that I stole." Morrigan clutched it in her hands and ran her pale fingers down the gold embossed frame. "The shape...the frame...tis all as I remember it." A rare smile flitted across her face whilst she stroked the mirror again and again. "There is no way you could have known about this- how did you do this?" asked Morrigan.

The warden shrugged. "I just picked up the first mirror I saw."

The witch turned the mirror over in her hands again. A single laugh escaped her. "You are impossible."

Aedan frowned. "I thought you liked it?"

"No...it's not that. It's..you. The probability that this same type of mirror was in manufacture more than a decade after I first saw it, managed to get smuggled down into Orzammar, and then that you would be walking by it and pick it up out of the countless other mirrors...You are impossibility itself. I cannot...thank you. Truly, thank you." She stared at Aedan, the living contradiction. Society wanted him dead, the forces of old gods unearthed wanted him dead, and yet here he stood, with the burden of a nation on his shoulders, still having time to pick out a mirror and once again defy the impossible. Morrigan's gaze wandered back and forth from the mirror to him. She dug her heel into the ground, twisting her foot as she struggled to think. "I don't know how to repay you...this is far too generous a gift to let go unpaid."

"It's just a beautiful gift-" Aedan placed his hands gently on Morrigan's shoulders, brushed away a stray bang, and placed a single kiss on her forehead. "-for a beautiful woman."

Morrigan could feel her face burn and redden, and not just from the furnace near them. Without thinking, Morrigan peeked around both corners to see if any of the others had arrived yet. The streets seemed clear. Morrigan wrapped her lithe arms around Aedan's neck and pecked him on the lips. Then again. Then she let lips remain as the kiss deepened. Aedan cupped the back of her neck, stroking the side of her milky smooth cheek with his thumb. Morrigan felt his hand on the back of her waist pull her in. She pushed her body closer against his and savoured the sweet, intoxicating kiss. With each moment in his embrace, Morrigan's mind stop thinking about the the passersby and simply basked in Aedan's presence and warmth.

"We're not going to start having sex in the streets right?," joked Aedan as he broke the kiss momentarily, "Because usually when we do this, it always escalates."

"No," laughed Morrigan. Her eyes wandered from Aedan's own to his lips and then back. She could feel his heavy breath on her neck and her skin tingled. "Tis just a kiss. Consider it your reward."

"Well, hold up, I think I saw a dozen more of these mirrors on sale."

"Stop talking." Her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned in once again and lay her soft lips upon Aedan's. "You're ruining it." She could feel his lips twist into a smile as he pulled her in again, wrapping his arms around her. She shifted comfortably in his arms.

"Well well well-" came a giddy voice punctuated by sputtered laughter. Morrigan pushed off of Aedan right in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. Alistair strode towards the pair, the edges of his mouth contorted into the biggest grin Aedan had ever seen on his face. The templar puffed out his chest he held both of his hands out in front of him like puppets.

"Oh look, Morrigan, let's make kissy faces when everyone's not around," spoke one hand of Alistair.

"Oh Aedan, how daring! Take me!" replied his other hand in an obnoxious falsetto. Alistair smooshed the tips of his hands together and let the fingers interweave. Alistair puckered his lips and made a sloppy sort of kissing noise that involved slurping his tongue about. Aedan turned away to try and contain his own laughter lest Morrigan hear him. Years of experience shapeshifting into birds finally paid off for Morrigan. Her hand jolted out, and like a bird's talon, sunk into Alistair's wrist like a soft piece of prey. The templar yelped and jumped back, rubbing the deep red marks that Morrigan's sharp fingernails had left. "Number one: have you heard of a nail file, and number two, ow! What the hell!" he shouted.

"Perhaps next I'll aim for your neck." The witch brandished her hand again and make a clamping notion. Aedan, still struggling to stifle his laughter at both Alistair's display, the witch's embarrassment, and both their reactions, leaned over the railing to slowly exhale and let it out.

"I honestly don't know what you see in her," said Alistair aside to his fellow warden, dodging another talon blow from Morrigan. "Maybe you're secretly a masochist."

"How was fighting in the Proving? You remembered to say you were fighting for Bhelen, right?" said Aedan, wrapping his arms around Morrigan to keep her from clawing at Alistair, although his public display of intimacy redirected her blows at him. She smacked him in the side and pried herself from his grasp.

"Fine. I got roughed up a little, but nothing a capable Grey Warden can't handle, am I right?" laughed Alistair, before muttering under his breath whilst looking at Morrigan, "Although you'd need to be more than a capable Grey Warden to deal with that monster."

"What was that? Were you sputtering something about your lack of sexual experience and your abundance of jealousy?" snapped Morrigan.

Alistair scowled at her. "See, this is why we can't have nice things."

* * *

To be fair, Bhelen had done a fantastic job on the forgeries. A seal was near impossible to reproduce. In the case of royalty, the seal was kept under lock and key and guard; one misplaced seal could mean a war. For lesser nobles though, forging the seal was not impossible.

All Aedan had to do was deliver the letter to Lady Helmi, one detailing that Harrowmont would be reneging on a crucial land deal regarding her house. With Harrowmont's aide's seal on it, it all but completed the deception. Aedan knew exactly his own part in this: he was the good guy, the infallible, trustworthy Grey Warden. Most people believed a Grey Warden would never lie. By this point, Aedan knew that a Grey Warden had one job- stop the darkspawn, no matter the sacrifice. After leaving Lady Helmi to her own devices, Aedan was thankful that just for today all he had to sacrifice was a bit of his integrity.

"Harrowmont's supporters are slowly dying out thanks to my smear campaign," snickered Bhelen, leaning back in his chair. The prince sampled from a platter of fresh fruits, slurping as he swallowed a mango. He and Aedan had convened in his royal office, a week after the two had first agreed upon their alliance.

"We're not even going to dress it up and call it something nice? I feel sort of dirty now, like a cheap prostitute," joked Aedan.

"With you Warden, I need to be honest. You're the driving force behind my campaign. Harrowmont and I had been stuck at a standstill for months before you came along. As much as I hate to admit, I need you. We've done good making Harrowmont look bad, now we have to make me look good." Bhelen paced back and forth behind his desk. Clearly his idea had him ecstatic- the prince was almost bouncing with each step. "I think you might like this one. Has to do with those filthy dusters you want so bad in your army. The Carta has reached critical mass. They grow too bold, shake down too many people in the Diamond quarter. We're relying on them far more than usual for imports. It might be because all of the legitimate merchants on the surface have died from the Blight."

The warden's heart dropped in his chest. He knew exactly what Bhelen was asking for.

"So I want you to go in and kill them all," asked Bhelen while picking some of the lint off of his attire. "In my name of course. I wouldn't mind if you planted some documents incriminating Harrowmont as well."

Not again. Aedan shivered in place as he remembered the feeling of blood dripping down his armor, the metallic smell filling his nostrils. "Whatever happened to court of law?" he breathed, struggling to keep his composure.

"Our laws for the casteless? Leave them in a cell to rot," said Bhelen, waving off their plight with his hand. He smiled as he found a rather plump grape and popped it into his mouth, "Killing them would be more efficient."

"I am not some assassin," growled Aedan, slamming his hands down on the desk, "We can't just decide to kill people at the snap of a finger." The cups and platters on the desk shook, and droplets of wine splashed from Bhelen's full cup. The prince grimaced and wiped down his desk with a handkerchief.

"Why can't we? That's the decision that men like us, leaders, are burdened to make. At any instant, we hold the lives of countless men in our hands, and we have to be prepared to sacrifice them, or kill any who might harm them." Aedan's unamused expression, with barely concealed contempt, still unnerved Bhelen. Aedan's face had contorted in thought as memories of blood soaked bodies flashed in his head.

"They're the Carta, worthless scumbags who got nowhere in life. Dust Town would be a lot safer without them around. There's no place for them in the future of Orzammar. They're dying either way." Bhelen shot Aedan a solemn look. "If you don't do it, then I'll have to send my guards to take care of them, and who knows how big of a bloodbath that'll be."

Aedan's hand trembled out of sight. Bhelen was right on all counts; the Carta would die, it was only a matter of how many they'd take with them. He reminded himself he had made this decision before: to kill to save a life. If his hands got dirty, then he could carry that burden so others might live.

One carta member for two guardsmen. Another carta member so the economy flows, saving a child from starvation. A dozen more so I can have strong casteless in my army, he thought to himself, chanting in his head. He didn't know how long he leaned on Bhelen's table, his hands pressed against the expensive wood desk and his head hanging. Fifty for an entire dwarven army. Seventy five so that hundreds more could feed. A hundred so that families can sleep without fear.

Once he had stopped counting in his head, Aedan crooked his head up to face Bhelen, his eyes weary. "I'll do it."


	40. Culling

"So it's settled. Tomorrow we kill the Carta."

Aedan sat at the head of the table while the others ate. Alistair stopped mid bite, his bread hanging out of his mouth. "Still doesn't exactly sit right with me."

"We don't have a choice. Either we go or Bhelen sends his guards." Aedan uncorked his flask and took a swig.

Alistair gestured at the flask. "Didn't you just finish that?"

Aedan shrugged mid-swig. "I got a refill." He gnawed off a piece of stale bread, gagging on the quality of it. Accommodations for large visitors such as themselves were rare and expensive in the city of the dwarves, so their food and service paled in comparison to the finer goods of the Diamond District. Yet in Orzammar, if there was even an inkling of a market for it, the dwarves would have it, albeit at a great cost to the group's coin purses. Sten and Shale particularly did not enjoy the city for all it's short doorways.

"So...we're all going or..." trailed off Alistair. The templar looked to the side and played with the nug saute on his plate, nervously clicking his teeth together. Aedan could tell he didn't want to go. Alistair rarely ever wanted to make tough decisions like these, and was more comfortable letting Aedan take care of said decisions. Often Morrigan had questioned why Alistair, the senior Warden of the group, did not helm the group. In the beginning, Alistair had been openly distraught about the death of Duncan and the other Grey Wardens. Aedan too had suffered his losses, and had chosen to bury himself in his work, taking up the reins that the shaken Alistair avoided. By the time Alistair had sobered up out of his misery, Aedan had already established himself as the defacto leader. The two never mentioned or talked about it- it was an unspoken fact, one that neither minded.

Aedan worried though. Eventually, a new ruler of Fereldan would need to be instated, and Alistair was next in line. He needed Alistair to be as strong a candidate as possible in case that day ever came. He peered over at the templar, slurping up a stray piece of spaghetti. A stray end swirled about in the air, and flecks of spaghetti sauce flung against Aedan's face.

That day still seemed far off.

"You don't have to go," conceded Aedan, "It'd be a waste to have us represented in only one light. Go to the proving arenas and see if you can gather us some more support." He mock yawned and stretched his arms out. "See you all tomorrow. I'm going to get some sleep," he said, hoping that simply saying might make it possible.

* * *

_As Aedan tied up the Orlesian woman and was about to remove her mask, Adair dropped down from the nearby rooftop, a splatter of blood soaked into his cloak. "Sorry. She had friends," The veteran groaned and eased out a knot in his shoulder. Surprisingly he carried no weapons with him; Aedan wondered if he had taken all the others out by hand._

_"What'd you do with them?"_

_"Notice the past tense 'had'."_

_Aedan gulped. He had heard about Adair's and Teharel's operations, about how they had killed many, but never had been so close to such...slaughter. He glanced at the alleyway in the general direction of where Adair had come from. "What about...the bodies?" Aedan muttered, a shiver running down his spine._

_"Oh, I just dumped them in the well by the Chantry."_

_"Who the hell dumps bodies in a Chantry well?" seethed Aedan. Adair could only shrug half-heartedly and flick a few stray drops of blood off his cloak. Aedan feared they might be caught, but Adair had done this sort of thing before and probably knew what he was doing. Aedan went dizzy for a few seconds as he imagined the cold, dead eyes of their corpses floating in the well._

_"Well, come on," said Adair, pulling a dagger seemingly out of nowhere, "Let's kill her and be done with this."_

_"No! We're not just going to kill her!" whispered Aedan tersely, hoping that no one else was around to see this scene. The last thing his family needed was a scandal accusing him of murder._

_Adair crooked his head to the side in confusion."She'll kill you," he stated, as if his previous suggestion was the most logical conclusion._

_Aedan placed his finger on his own mouth and drew Adair in closer. "Listen to me-" Whilst Aedan whispered something into Adair's ear, the Orlesian woman creened one eye open and fiddled with her rope bonds. While Aedan's combat skills had not been reported to her, she exhaled silently through her nose in amusement at his abysmal rope tying skills. She spotted the bag that Aedan had dropped in the middle of the battle, laying on the ground several feet from him. He was busy whispering something angrily to his assassin compatriot, a much more dangerous looking fellow. If the new help she had hired had not been enough to take down that man, then she didn't want to take her chances._

_The rope came undone in her fingers. The woman lept from the ground and smashed a vial downwards. A noxious gas filled the area as she sprinted towards the bag. She clutched it in her hands and veered back off towards the rooftops. She cackled beneath her breath, "Men and their quarrels," and vanished into the shadows._

_"Get back here you bitch!" screamed Adair at the woman, attempting to wave his way through the noxious smoke, which masked the Orelesian woman's exit. He wasn't much younger than Teharel, so even his lungs couldn't take the high amount of toxicity. Sputtering, he picked up Aedan by the waist and threw him clear of the area, then barreled out of there himself. He landed on his back, heaving from having held his breath so long._

_"She gone?" asked Aedan, still coughing._

_"Yeah." Adair eased himself back up and sighed."Think she bought it?'_

_"Hope so." Aedan pulled out a large stack of papers from beneath his chest. "I figured she might end up grabbing my bag at some point, so before I left the bar I stuffed the papers beneath my jacket, just in case." He smiled to himself. He had intentionally left the woman's ropes undone loosely and placed decoy papers in his bag._

_"What's in the bag?"_

_"Just some of my notes and incoherent gibberish I ended up transcribing, so it'll look like the documents. They'll take some time figuring out whether or not it's just nonsense or the most complicated code ever written. I actually prepared them in case I had to fake you out."_

_"Can't you ever just win a fight by fighting?"_

_"Well, considering I can count on my fingers the number of times I've been in life threatening fights, I have to make do with my wits."_

_Adair chuckled to himself. "You're a bright kid."_

_"Funny. My parents always seem to say the exact opposite."_

_The older man wrung his hands together, contemplating his next words. He leaned against the alleyway wall and sighed, "I'm not used to asking like this, but I'd really like your help. I'm not threatening your life this time. I'm asking you to help me. I know I don't deserve it. I've done a lot of bad things for the right reasons, or so I thought. I'm...not the most well educated nor clever man. I'm good at one thing only, and that's fighting."_

_"Maric's bastard is out there," he continued, "and people are looking for him, and for the wrong reasons. They'll take advantage of him, maybe even kill him. For once, I'd like to do the right thing for the right reasons. And maybe that starts with helping just one little bastard out."_

_Adair held out his hand, a lone trickle of blood dripping from his sleeve. Aedan hesitated. This was the man responsible for Teharel's current condition, but yet Aedan remembered the night Teharel and Adair had met again: the pained, saddened look upon the faces of both men, fighting out of necessity, not of desire. Aedan remembered how Teharel had talked of Adair and called him 'the best of us' over how Adair had agonized over what he had done. Perhaps, when Adair had fought Teharel, he hadn't realized how weakened the elf was from a life spent drinking away his guilt. In a way, Teharel was equally to blame for how much the poison took it's toll on him, his own self-inflicted punishment for what he had done._

_Looking at the man now, he looked less like a rapid hunting dog and now more like Teharel: a man who had trodden a rough and beaten path. The fear and resulting adrenaline threatened to rip Aedan's heart threatened to tear itself out of his chest, but Aedan cautiously met Adair's hand with his own._

* * *

It seemed a miracle, but despite the oncoming events weighing heavy on his mind, Aedan actually slept, albeit only for a few hours. The sound of the smiths in the morning, banging against their anvils and shouting at their assistants, had woken him. Rubbing his tired eyes, Aedan wondered what the trick had been: he surmised it had simply been sheer exhaustion, or that his body knew that he had to be prepared today.

Whilst sharpening his blade against a whetstone, Aedan glanced over at the sack of sword shards laying on the night table. Common sense dictated that he throw it away: since most of the shards and part of the hilt still remained inside the ragged sack, carrying the bag around meant bearing the weight of another weapon. Already burdened by his shield, sword, spare sword, various bombs and potions, all in addition to his heavy plate armor, Aedan knew it would be best to not carry it around all the time. Still, despite knowing this, Aedan reached over to the sack and strapped it once again to his side, making sure that the end was safely hooked onto the waist of his armor.

Today it would be him and three others: Morrigan, Zevran, and Shale. None of the three had any qualms about massacring the Carta.

Bhelen's intel had already placed their main hideout in the outskirts of Dust Town. Under threat of arms, the beggars had refused to give up information regarding the Carta, but once they had been told that the Carta was to be eliminated and they'd be paid a few sovereign for the information, the beggars spilled quickly. Bhelen had also obtained the fingerbone key from a former member of the Carta, or at least from his grave. People didn't generally leave the Carta alive.

Beggars lined the road from the Market District into Dust Town. The ragged, branded dwarfs hoped to make some meager coins off some of the more generous merchants who passed through. Although it was the only road into the Dust Town area, few merchants or nobles ever passed through save for using it as a shortcut. The incessant begging and their pleas displeased the upper classes. As he passed through, Aedan placed a single silver into a single beggar's cup, then strode forward more swiftly: if any of the other beggars saw him, they'd swarm over him.

Arriving in the main district of Dust Town, Aedan could see that even if the Carta cleared out, the entire area would need more support. Some buildings lay in ruin, crumpled and broken from the warring gangs and disrepair. None of the corroded soil seemed suitable for any sort of farming.

The residents looked at him with suspicious eyes, wondering what an illustrious Grey Warden was doing in their neck of the woods. They were a wiry bunch, with muscles built from construction and fighting, but their eyes lacked a certain life. Some of the young though still smiled and ran about, playing tag in the streets. Other ambled about like undead, going about their daily errands.

"I commend you for doing this," said Morrigan as Aedan continued to observe the Dust Town residents.

"For what?" he asked.

"You have always been particularly squeamish about killing things," she answered back, "There are things that must be done. It is good that you are a man who will do them, despite how he feels." The brown haired mage gave him a small smile and brushed her hair back.

Aedan grimaced. "Isn't sticking to your convictions something to be valued more?" Indeed, mass slaughter at the behest at another just sat wrong with him. Aedan kept trying to push the sickening feeling down, but his stomach still churned in disgust.

"Convictions and morals pale in comparison to your entrusted duty: the survival of Thedas." Morrigan looked him in the eyes and nodded. "Do not forget that."

Aedan smiled sadly. Sometimes he wished he could be more like Morrigan: held together by an unwavering focus. If a sacrifice needed to be made, she need not agonize over it, not like him. Even her mother's betrayal had not shaken Morrigan as badly as he thought it would. He wondered if she ever had sleepless nights.

The group stopped where Bhelen's map had indicated. It looked like any old warehouse. Aedan scoffed. It figured a warehouse would be where a crime lord hung out: some things never changed. He fumbled for the fingerbone key in his pockets, and slid it into the intricate lock. Several levers clicked and the door creaked open by an inch. Aedan motioned for Shale to force open the door: apparently it required a doorman to open the rest of it.

"Hey, I didn't hear about a shipment today-"

A lone doorman walked around the corner and gaped at the hulking golem forcing open the door and the armored soldier behind him. "Shit! Shit!" he sputtered as he sprinted down the remained of the hallway away from Aedan's group.

"I think it pissed its pants," chuckled Shale, before finally prying open the steel door all the way. It tossed the bent massive door to the ground. Thee group made their way down the long hallway, the hurried shouts and roars of Carta members grew louder and more desperate. Finally at the next corner, a horde of Carta members awaited him, armed to the teeth in armor and weapons.

"I don't think you belong here, Warden. We'll make an exception because you have a Blight to attend to: leave or we gut you."

Aedan gripped his hilt. "I'm not here to run, talk, or negotiate," stated Aedan matter of factly before drawing his sword.

"Then I guess you're here to die," laughed the Carta dwarf, before lunging forward. He was fast, but Aedan had seen much faster. To him, the dwarf's attack and speed was nothing compared to a frenzied werewolf, or a unholy demon. Aedan sliced his sword through the soft of the dwarf's neck and kicked him away. Blood gushed out and dribbled down his armor. The dwarf fell, clutching his neck.

Aedan took a deep breath to clear his head, then lept into the fray. Though his hand trembled and his legs felt like boulders, almost refusing to move forward, Aedan concentrated on the feel of the blood rushing through his veins. How the guts splattering against his helm and the feel of his sword swinging through the air sent a rush of terrifying dark adrenaline coursing through him. He didn't like the sickening, exhilarating feeling, but it was a feeling nonetheless. He didn't want to think about what he was doing- he had made his decision and done his agonizing. As he drove his sword into another dwarf, Aedan let the adrenaline engulf his mind.

The Carta, despite being the main crime organization in Orzammar, fell to his group's blades easily. The Carta picked up lost strays and undesirables, desperate to taste the sweet noble life that had been denied to them from their very birth. They lacked a certain ferocity and speed that the darkspawn, demons, and werewolves Aedan had faced had wielded. Their mortal arms could only swing their swords so hard, attempt to run from his blows so quickly.

Zevran glided to the crowds drawn by Aedan's brutal display. The dwarfs charged from the front, hoping to overpower the warden by brute force. Zevran slipped behind them and slashed at their tendons. They fell to their knees, unable to move for a split second before Zevran slit their throats from behind. Blood dribbled down from their open throats as the life left their eyes in shock.

Some attempted to use crossbows and arrows to pierce Aedan and Zevran from the front, only to have their bolts and arrows blown away by gales of wind. Morrigan tapped her staff against the ground, letting an array of elements burst forth. From the earth and the air, stone and ice shot out and impaled the dwarves. Horrific screams gurgled out of those who clawed at their faces set ablaze.

Finally let free from restraint of non-lethal blows, Shale reveled in the ability to exert every ounce of it's power. The golem threw dwarves against the wall, their soft flesh splattering in a mess of scarlet red. It slammed its fists into their armor, crushing even the most well forged steel. Aedan ducked and weaved to avoid the flying bodies and limbs that Shale threw about.

Aedan lost track of how many he had slayed. His kills blurred together with the others- was it that fire that killed him or the sword in the chest? The internal bleeding from a golem's blow or an assassin's dagger to the back? It all blended tinto a storm of carnage, the screams of the dying howling in his ears. Eventually, the steady stream of Carta members stopped as they delved deeper into the hideout. In a final room filled with gold and drugs, a lone female dwarf stood in the center with no subordinates surrounding her. Aedan surmised she had sent them all out in a desperate attempt to overpower his group.

"You've made a real mess of the place here." The branded dwarf spat on the ground and scowled at Aedan. The warden narrowed his eyes. Jarvia. Aedan had heard of her from some of the locals: monster and tyrant were among the names they called her. Late protection fees resulted in dead bodies hanging from buildings. Whatever little the casteless made in profits were demanded as tribute. Aedan had to peer down to get eye contact with her. He had imagined based on the tales from the dust town residents that she'd be taller.

"You really think killing me is going to change anything?" Jarvia twirled her dagger between her fingers. She smiled but the edges stretched all too thin. "I've got a better idea. How about you and me gut Harrowmont? You get to put Bhelen in power, and I get Harrowmont's head on my rep. I'll supply you with the Carta's weapons and food, because let's face it, that's where a lot of the dwarven army's supplies come from already."

Aedan drew his sword. His silence was his answer. Jarvia could only stare at the metal helm over Aedan's face and wonder what kind of expression he was making. Was he even considering her a threat? She shivered in fear at the juggernaut that had just slaughtered all her men. Her twirling dagger nicked the skin of his fingers and she stifled her pain, choosing instead to point her dagger straight at Aedan. "You're just exchanging one tyrant for another."

Aedan stepped closer now. The witch behind him muttered under her breath, her hands glowing. The golem smashed its fists together.

The edge of Jarvia's dagger trembled. "I'm going to tear you-"

Aedan's shield flew into her face. The woman crumbled to the ground, clutching her bleeding nose, letting out a wail of agony. The warden lunged forward and with a single slice Jarvia's head rolled onto the ground.

He wiped his bloodied sword on a nearby tarp covering some crates. "Sorry." He grabbed the tarp and threw it over Jarvia's still bleeding body. He could see the outline of her body sprawled beneath, her arms and leg outstretched as though she was running, with her head tucked between the nook of her shoulders as she ran.

* * *

As the group marched out of the Carta hideout, the surrounding Dust Town dwarfs backed away from Aedan's blood soaked form. The commotion had been heard from blocks away, and they all had been anxiously waiting outside. They cleared a path down the middle, not daring to make a noise, not even to cheer. Zevran, Morrigan, and Shale followed behind him, each and everyone having their fair share of mess over them. What had these dwarves been expecting? A shining knight draped in white, his sword glimmering and bringing light to the downtrodden town? Aedan grimaced at the horrified looks upon some of their faces- instead they had gotten a blood soaked soldier. Some others had blank expressions and simply watched him. Perhaps their lack of horror meant approval of his actions. None however spoke a word.

Aedan continued through the crowd until several dwarves began yelping in indignation at someone moving through the crowd. "You! My son was in there!" cried out a voice. A ragged dwarven woman, her hair splotched with dirt, pushed her way through the frozen crowd. Hot tears streamed down her furious, saddened face. "He was all I had left!" she spat at him, attempting to grab at Aedan, "My little baby boy just joined to keep us fed!"

"That's enough Shansa! Leave the Warden be," whispered another woman tersely, her eyes darting back and forth from Aedan's back, fearful of the surfacer's retribution. She grabbed the sobbing woman by the arms and tried to pull her back, but the distraught dwarf wrestled her arms out of the others' grasps. Aedan kept moving forward, hastening his pace to escape from the woman's words.

"What gives you the right to come in here and do as you please!" Shansa screamed as loud as she could from the bottom of her lungs, snot and tears flying from her contorted dirt covered face. "You stole my family! I'll kill you...you...monster!"

Aedan's foot hovered above the ground. He turned around and strode towards the sobbing dwarf woman forebodingly. As he stood before her, the woman rushed at his legs. "Give him back!" she cried. Her fists clanged against Aedan's shin guards again and again. Her scabbed knees wobbled to the ground, her hot tears soaking into the broken, dusty soil. Each sob rattled against the walls of Aedan's helmet. Finally her pained cries died down, and her sobs became nothing more than a faint heaving.

Aedan turned away without a word, letting the dwarf fall to the ground on her hands alone with her tears. Better to leave his helm on, better to walk with his back turned in silence. Let them think of him as only a cold steely figure with no mercy even for a crying woman, for that was what he needed to be. Let them fear his return, lest the Carta resurge.

Words lingered on the tip of his tongue: I know how you feel, I'm sorry, I didn't know. He wanted to place his hand on the woman's shoulder and comfort her somehow. Yet the words and gestures remained as frozen and bitter afterthoughts, hidden by Aedan's silence. What would be the point? To satisfy his own guilt, to somehow convince himself that he wasn't what he had called Howe and Loghain repeatedly in his mind, the one horrifying word the dwarven woman had howled at him?

He had made his decision, and he would bear that weight.


	41. Lies

Aedan splashed the water against his face. The bits of soil and grime in the water stung against a scrape on his face: the inn had only limited clean water, as most was reserved for the Diamond Quarter. He scrubbed his hands together, rubbing until he was sure the blood was gone. Panting, he dunked his head once again into the bucket to clean it. Water trickled down from his drenched hair and into his towel as Aedan dried himself up.

He had killed far too many to count- far more than there had been Howe's men that fateful night at the Cousland castle. Had he always had this potential in him, to slaughter dozens like a juggernaut? If he had, perhaps if he had stood and fought his ground to protect his parents, at least they might have been saved. Their dead bodies would not lay rotting in the ruins of Castle Highever.

Aedan knew this to be false though. His body and mind had been tempered and scarred by the constant battles. Teharel and Adair had always told him that for all his technique, cunning, and strength, he had lacked experience to tie it all together. Now he had faced more monstrosities than many others faced in a lifetime.

But what had this changed him into? Was he still the son of Bryce and Eleanor Cousland, still a good-natured lad who believed in justice and heroes? Or was he more like Loghain, pragmatic and willing to sacrifice lives in exchange for more?

If his parent were here and saw him covered in dripping in blood, having slaughtered a whole legion of dwarves not out of self-defense, but out of political necessity, would they look away in shame and call him a monster as well? His father had killed in the rebellion against Orlais, but that had been war. Aedan felt like what he had done was slaughter.

Aedan missed the days when he could wake up in the late morning, spend thirty minutes rolling around in bed, and let the sun's warm rays lull him back into a half-awake state.

He wrapped his hands in the towel and squeezed tightly to get every last bit of moisture out of them. He squeezed and wiped until his skin began to ache from the chafing. The cuts on his hands had opened up again. Aedan wrapped bandages around his palms to stop the bleeding.

_Monster._

In a panic, Aedan clawed off the bandages and began to wash his hands again.

His hands felt moist with blood that wasn't his.

* * *

"Your deeds are the talk of the town in Diamond Quarter, Warden. Everybody's rejoicing that the Carta's finally been taken care of," said Bhelen. The prince poured Aedan and himself a glass of wine each.

After Aedan had cleaned himself up, he had headed straight over to the royal palace to update Bhelen. Honestly, Aedan just wanted to be be done with Orzammar at this point, and get out of the city. He fidgeted in the too-short chair as Bhelen paced the room, downing the first glass of wine and getting his next refill almost immediately.

Aedan stifled a groan. "Does that mean I get my troops?" He internally kicked himself for not masking his tone; rudeness never helped during political talks.

Bhelen seemed unfazed however. Leaning forward on his desk, Bhelen gazed out the window across the expanse that was the Diamond Quarter. "It's still not enough though- the Assembly is still in a deadlock between me and Harrowmont. We still need one last push," said Bhelen, a glint in his eyes. "We need a Paragon."

Aedan rubbed his eyes and leaned his head against his hand. "I'm guessing you don't just keep them all in one place, do you?"

"There's only one living Paragon, and 'living' is a stretch."

"Branka," grimaced Aedan. Somehow he knew that eventually he'd have to do the most inconvenient and dangerous thing that Orzammar had to offer: venturing far into the Deep Roads.

"There were rumors about where she went: that she went to find the remaining caches of golems that Caridin had left behind. If we could use those golems, I can't even think about what a leap forward it'd be for our people."

"Why the hell are you so excited? We haven't even found her yet."

"Because you're on the job, Warden," said Bhelen, jutting his finger out at Aedan. "This is what Grey Wardens do: venture into the Deep Roads and slay legions of darkspawn. My father used to tell me stories about how your order would swoop in and slaughter a whole army's worth of the beasts." Bhelen finished off his glass, poured Aedan another refill, and clinked the glasses together. Aedan raised an eyebrow: Bhelen was practically dancing in place. "And you...you're something else. You could pull this off."

Bhelen savoured the wine with long sip. "Cheers, Warden. To our continued success."

Golems, huh? thought Aedan as he looked down into his scarlet stained glass and let the liquid swirl about inside.

* * *

Aedan knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again, and he heard something scuffle inside. "Oghren? You in there?"

"Whatever you think I did, it wasn't me!" came the dwarf's gruff reply, followed by quieter proclamations of "Shit! Shit!".

Aedan could hear the dwarf scrambling behind the door and hastily moving his belongings around. He sighed and knocked again. "You haven't done anything wrong- I'm a Grey Warden and I need some info on Branka."

The hectic footsteps stopped. The door cracked open, and a single eye glared up at Aedan through the opening. "Grey Warden eh?" barked Oghren, "You the one who dragged me back home?"

Aedan was surprised at the lack of alcohol on the man's breath. "Yes, that was me."

The dwarf shut the door, then undid the bolt and lock. He opened it once again, revealing his hastily scuffled away pigsty. Dirty laundry poked out of overstuffed drawers. "Come in then, but I ain't cleaning up."

"You know what, Aedan, I think I'll just wait outside. I think you've got this handled." Leliana cringed at the mess before her. A rat zipped across the floor, and the sister gagged. The dwarf rolled his eyes and let Aedan in alone while the others waited outside.

"You were a lot less friendly when I met you," said Aedan as he looked for a place to sit. He decided upon an overturned mattress propped up against the wall. He slumped down into it, letting his hips and back curve against the floor and his eye level fall to Oghren's.

"Well Warden, one thing I've learnt as a drunk bum is that the measure of a truly great man is whether or not he's willing to help drag home a piss-drunk fellow, and then  _not_  rob him blind." Oghren poured Aedan a glass of whiskey and handed it to him. "You're alright in my books."

"You  _do_  know it's early morning?"

"Is that a no?" grunted Oghren.

Aedan smiled and took swig from his glass. The dwarf raised his bottle and guzzled down a mouthful. "What do you want to know?" he belched.

Aedan leaned forward on his knees and tapped his index fingers together. "How do I find Branka?"

"With a lot of lanterns and patience," muttered Oghren as he leaned against the stairway and looked at the portrait of Branka. Aedan noticed a distinct lack of dust and filth on the painting; perhaps it was the only thing the dwarf kept clean.

"Why, you planning on going into the Deep Roads?" Oghren snorted.

"That's the plan."

The dwarf paused and turned to him, his eyes narrowed as he tried to surmise whether Aedan was lying or not. "You're serious?"

Aedan nodded. The dwarf threw his hands into the air, making an exasperated face. "Of course, for all the years I've been lobbying the Assembly to get an expedition out, they didn't budge a muscle, but once someone important needs Branka, it's all hands on deck. Sodding hypocrites."

The dwarf seemed irritated: perhaps Aedan needed to sell this some more. "Out of any expedition," he began, "we have the best chance of success. Grey Wardens are specialized in killing darkspawn. We have mages along that can also make remedies to protect against the taint. We have a golem that can-"

Alcohol sprayed across the room and hit Aedan in the face. The Warden growled as his wiped the stinging liquid from his face. Oghren ignored his annoyance and said, "Wait a fucking minute. You have a golem?"

"Yeah. That's what Branka was looking for, right? Caridin's golems?"

"No Warden, Branka was always keeping her eyes on bigger game. She was looking for the Anvil of the Void- the way by which Caridin made his golems."

"So if we found her...we could make more golems?"

"Exactly."

"That could change the entire tide of the Blight- even help the dwarves retake the Thaigs." Aedan took a deep breath in, his mind racing. Shale was an incredible asset to his team: imagine if even one of the armies he had gathered had a whole support group of golems backing them up. What Aedan regretted was the lack of sturdy armies he had recruited. The mages, although they had amazing firepower, lacked defensive training. Many of them had never been in battle, and only had fought one demon in their entire career during their Harrowing. The elves excelled in hit and run tactics, and they had far more archers then frontline warriors. Furthermore, their wandering and lack of established homeland led to a dwindling population. The soldiers of Redcliffe were just that: the soldiers of one village. He needed an army to fight the entire horde, to plow his way straight to the damn Archdemon. The sturdy, battle hardened dwarves would make a fine addition, but the golems...

Aedan grinned internally, barely able to contain his excitement.

They did not tire. They did not fear. They did not eat. They did not sleep. What could be a more perfect soldier?

Oghren noticed Aedan's contemplative expression. He stroked his dirty red beard and grunted. "Let's make deal then," he said, offering his hand, "you take me with you, and I'll show you the way. It's about damn time I found my wife."

* * *

_Bryce Cousland sat in his study, enjoying a peaceful book-reading session. He leaned back in his plush reading chair and sighed in content. He brought the cup of chamomile tea to his mouth, taking a sip of warm, calming liquid, It was nice, not having to deal with politics, wife, or children for a few peaceful moments-_

_"Father, so I was walking in the market today...and...how do I say this tastefully-" interrupted Aedan as he round the corner._

_So much for relaxation. Bryce sighed and put down his cup of tea. "I can already tell I don't want to hear this," he said, not looking up from his book._

_"I spot this lovely woman with... with a big ol pair of textbooks if you know what I'm saying."_

_Bryce groaned and looked up towards the sky."Maker, feel free to take back this blessing of a child."_

_Ignoring his father's irritated mood, Aedan crossed his arms and leaned against the bookshelf. "And so I go over there, all charming like, using my old charm on her, flirting with her, but she'll have none of that! It turns out, she's one of those intellectual types. She's says "I bet you noble boys just have dust rolling about in your head. I bet you can't even understand what I'm studying.' And so she pops out one of her textbooks."_

_His father looked at him, bewildered. Aedan laughed, "She was actually carrying textbooks. Do you take me for some sort of pervert, Father?"_

_"Carry on, I guess," sighed Bryce._

_"And it's all this complicated stuff. And she goes off ranting about how the nobility of Fereldan has fallen to such low education standards, and on and on. Really, it was quite infuriating. She took a whole rant to just tell me how stupid she thought I was." Aedan closed his eyes and shooked his head in disapproval. "So I was wondering if you knew anybody that could deal with ciphers and codes and the such, so next time I see this lass I can-"_

_"So you want me to help you get petty revenge and pick up some random woman," said Bryce._

_"Isn't that what family's for?" smiled Aedan the best he could._

_Bryce grumbled and rubbed his forehead with his fingers. Honestly, he just wanted to read his book in peace at this point. He grabbed a piece of paper and hastily scribbled down an address and name. "If it keeps you out of trouble with all these swords and dangerous people you've been dealing with lately, I'll be glad to ship you off into some woman's arms. Let her deal with you instead of me. I have an old friend from back during the war with Orlais who should be able to help you out. Just promise me you won't get into too much trouble again."_

_"Father, how much trouble can I get into with a bunch of books?" chuckled Aedan. He strode out the front door of his house, gave a nod to the guards that had been stationed outside, and headed to the alleys. The guards on duty to protect the Couslands from Adair had been lax as of late; since no news had come up regarding Adair, the general assumption had been he had simply fled for his life._

_Aedan trailed into the alleyway where Adair stood in wait. The older man's face was obscured by his hood, and countless other people moved outside of the alleyway, hiding the two's meeting._

_"Your father suspect anything?" Adair pulled his hood closer over his face, just in case._

_"Just the usual troublemaking," replied Aedan._

_"Seems sort of rude, lying to your father like that."_

_"I don't want to hear about rudeness from you," groaned Aedan, stretching his arms out. "I have a visit to make to Teharel's. I don't think you're too welcome there."_

_Adair nodded and waved Aedan off. "I'll meet you at the regular meeting spot so we can travel to the address together."_

* * *

_Aedan knocked twice on the door, and was greeted by Jarat opening up the door. The elf greeted Aedan with a smile and called out, "Teharel, Aedan's here!"_

_"Oi Aedan!" Teharel grabbed his crutches and hobbled over to Aedan. He'd been losing some weight recently, and his skin looked a little paler. It'd already been a few months since they had met Adair in the Alienage, and it had been that same night the mages had given Teharel only about a year to live. The old elf grunted in pain and clutched his side. Hijaya grabbed him by the waist and helped him up. "Thanks, dear," laughed Teharel. The elf held himself up by the table and directed Aedan to the backyard of the apartment complex._

_Every so often, Aedan would come by and show Teharel the results of his training. The elf, although he could no longer spar with Aedan due to his condition, could still critique Aedan's technique. Strength training was something Aedan could handle on his own, but Aedan needed someone experienced to guide him in the finer points of swordplay._

_Aedan whirled in place as his sword swiped up and down. He imagined his opponent before him, dodging his blows. Aedan slammed his shield right in front of him- his imaginary opponent stumbled backwards. In that momentary distraction, Aedan struck at the right arm._

_"Too many unnecessary movements," commented Teharel, "Are you trying to hit somebody with your flailing limbs or something?"_

_"I was trying to simulate disarming him," replied Aedan, leaning down on his knees and panting. He still hadn't gotten used to rapid movements of the sword. When he had dueled with nobles, it had slower blows with more force behind them. Teharel had always been more a fan of explosive bursts of cuts and slashes._

_"It's far more efficient to just cut off his head."_

_"Well, let's hope it never comes to that, shall we?" Aedan grimaced._

_To be honest, Aedan felt rather uncomfortable being there, pretending like everything was normal. Everything wasn't. He was working with the man who had given Teharel his death sentence. He lying to his father about dangerous activities he was up to. Lies had begun to pile upon more lies._

_Not that others didn't do it. Hijaya still wore her smile as she helped her father around the house, but she too must have noticed how much worse Teharel was doing, not to mention that she had to deal with her own pregnancy. Teharel would smile and joke about how he wasn't long for this world, joke about how he was getting old, but even he must have felt his own looming death over his shoulder._

_Even his own father would hide the stress he underwent from the meetings with politicians. Out of all the Fereldan nobles, only Bryce Cousland was one of the willing to talk with the Orlesians. Doing so, however, had painted their family in a unenviable light among some. They'd whisper behind the Couslands' back and sometimes lodge complaints against their family. His father tread a fine line between loyal countryman and being seen as a traitor._

_The lies they told others and themselves, they weren't meant to hurt people. People had their burdens to carry, burdens they didn't want others to carry._

_So Aedan would smile and say it was alright. That everything was peaceful and everything would be okay. He didn't want to burden his family with the worries of what he was doing in secret, nor burden Teharel's with it either._

_Perhaps, the more Aedan smiled and lied, eventually his lie that everything was alright would be the truth._

_Once again, Aedan started slashing, and accelerated his footwork. As he weaved around the garden, Aedan tripped over an overturned rock and crashed to the ground. He coughed out the sand that had gotten into his mouth. Teharel cringed as Aedan wiped the blood off his nose. "You all right there lad?"_

_"I'm fine," said Aedan, ignoring the throbbing pain in his nose._

* * *

Aedan, laying on his bed roll, stared up into the vast chasm above him for what seemed to be the third hour.

He rolled up his blanket and bedroll and headed towards the campfire. If he could not sleep, he would at least stay near the warm fire. He rubbed the areas under his eyes- despite his fatigue and aches, he still couldn't sleep. It was strange- like being stuck in some halfway state of slumber and being awake. The conversations around the campfire or on the road all seemed to blur together while he ambled through the day.

The first day of the expedition had gone off without a snag. To be fair, save for the occasional darkspawn, it was rather boring. Most of the surrounding Deep Roads had been cleared out by scavengers and previous expeditions. Some of the Carta used to reside in the old building, evidenced by the graffiti that lined some of the ancient walls.

As Aedan tiptoed through his sleeping companions, he noticed one of them sleeping far apart from the rest. Morrigan, per usual, situated herself away from the others, even though it meant she was farther from the campfire. She lay curled up in her ragged blanket, quietly breathing in and out. "Idiot," she muttered in her sleep. Aedan smiled- even in her dreams, her sharp tongue never changed.

The witch shivered every few seconds: her bedroll was not that thick. The group had packed light for the expedition. Most of them had heavier clothing to change into though, except for Morrigan. Squatting down next to her, Aedan gently placed his hand against her cheek for her temperature. Her cold soft skin sent a small shiver down his arm. Aedan rolled his eyes and draped his blanket over her. The witch instinctively pulled the blanket to her, still emanating Aedan's residual warmth. She mumbled inaudibly as she slumbered. Aedan got back up and proceeded to the fireplace.

Shale stood at the fire, and it's gaze followed Aedan as the warden took his seat by it. Aedan nodded in it's direction and pulled out a loaf of bread to chew on. At the very least, if he could not enjoy his sleep he'd enjoy a meal and some warmth instead. After several minutes of silence, save for Aedan's chewing, Shale asked, "What does food taste like?"

Aedan's bread hovered outside of his mouth. "Uh..."

Scratching his head, Aedan had to consider: how do you describe the taste of food to one who has never had it before? He fondly remembered Nan's special chocolate mousse, a sweet, decadent treat with a slight kick of mint and a lovely texture. She used to make it on special occasions, just for the family, never at any of the public gatherings. Yet he could only describe it as "sweet" or "minty" or "delicious"- these words meant nothing to Shale.

"It tastes good," he shrugged, continuing to chew his food. The golem watched him closely, so much that Aedan slowed his chewing at the golem's unusual stare.

"How very eloquent of it," said the golem dryly.

"What piqued your curiosity?"

"Well, simply because the Warden seems to eat all the time, and it must do so for some reason. I've seen no other human eat quite as much as it, except for maybe the fat ones."

Aedan swore that the golem's stone face, though it barely moved, was twisted into a smirk. The warden scowled before taking another bite. "I expend a lot of energy, don't judge me."

"So tis merely a thing of a necessity? Or does it do so because it desires?"

"A little bit of both I guess. I'll die without it, but I might as well enjoy it."

"Hmm. Interesting."

Aedan mulled over Shale's words, then after a few moments of thought, broke off a large chunk of bread and held it out in his hands. "Want some?" he asked.

"Perhaps it is stupider than I thought after all. It knows that I cannot eat," retorted Shale.

"Well, eating is an experience. It's not just about taste. That's probably the best way I can describe food."

"I cannot smell either, if that is what it is implying."

"Well, at the very least, we can replicate having a meal together. We've spent enough time on guard duty together to warrant at least one." Indeed, the golem was Aedan's most frequent guard partner, considering that neither of them got much sleep. Usually their time together was passed in silence.

Sighing, the golem took the piece of bread and held it between its fingers. The sheer force of its grip smushed the bread into a flat mush. Still, the golem brought the remains to its mouth and moved its stone lips over it. Aedan too took a bite of his crusty bread. The two continued to chew, until Aedan swallowed and the last remnants of crumbs fell from Shale's face.

Shale pondered- although it had not ingested a single piece of the bread, and Aedan had known this would happen, the Warden had still given him a portion of his rations. No one in Shale's lifetime had ever thought to offer it food. It had only ever watched as Wilhelm and his wife laughed over dinner. It had only watched as countless others held picnics under it in the village of Honnleath. Even during its time with the Warden, it had only ever watched as the group rotated on guard duty and shared their meager meals.

In regard to Shale's first meal, Shale could only speak of the feeling, not the taste.

"It tasted good," it muttered, wiping the last bit from its stony face.


	42. Monsters

Aedan splashed the water against his face. The bits of soil and grime in the water stung against a scrape on his face: the inn had only limited clean water, as most was reserved for the Diamond Quarter. He scrubbed his hands together, rubbing until he was sure the blood was gone. Panting, he dunked his head once again into the bucket to clean it. Water trickled down from his drenched hair and into his towel as Aedan dried himself up.

He had killed far too many to count- far more than there had been Howe's men that fateful night at the Cousland castle. Had he always had this potential in him, to slaughter dozens like a juggernaut? If he had, perhaps if he had stood and fought his ground to protect his parents, at least they might have been saved. Their dead bodies would not lay rotting in the ruins of Castle Highever.

Aedan knew this to be false though. His body and mind had been tempered and scarred by the constant battles. Teharel and Adair had always told him that for all his technique, cunning, and strength, he had lacked experience to tie it all together. Now he had faced more monstrosities than many others faced in a lifetime.

But what had this changed him into? Was he still the son of Bryce and Eleanor Cousland, still a good-natured lad who believed in justice and heroes? Or was he more like Loghain, pragmatic and willing to sacrifice lives in exchange for more?

If his parent were here and saw him covered in dripping in blood, having slaughtered a whole legion of dwarves not out of self-defense, but out of political necessity, would they look away in shame and call him a monster as well? His father had killed in the rebellion against Orlais, but that had been war. Aedan felt like what he had done was slaughter.

Aedan missed the days when he could wake up in the late morning, spend thirty minutes rolling around in bed, and let the sun's warm rays lull him back into a half-awake state.

He wrapped his hands in the towel and squeezed tightly to get every last bit of moisture out of them. He squeezed and wiped until his skin began to ache from the chafing. The cuts on his hands had opened up again. Aedan wrapped bandages around his palms to stop the bleeding.

_Monster._

In a panic, Aedan clawed off the bandages and began to wash his hands again.

His hands felt moist with blood that wasn't his.

* * *

"Your deeds are the talk of the town in Diamond Quarter, Warden. Everybody's rejoicing that the Carta's finally been taken care of," said Bhelen. The prince poured Aedan and himself a glass of wine each.

After Aedan had cleaned himself up, he had headed straight over to the royal palace to update Bhelen. Honestly, Aedan just wanted to be be done with Orzammar at this point, and get out of the city. He fidgeted in the too-short chair as Bhelen paced the room, downing the first glass of wine and getting his next refill almost immediately.

Aedan stifled a groan. "Does that mean I get my troops?" He internally kicked himself for not masking his tone; rudeness never helped during political talks.

Bhelen seemed unfazed however. Leaning forward on his desk, Bhelen gazed out the window across the expanse that was the Diamond Quarter. "It's still not enough though- the Assembly is still in a deadlock between me and Harrowmont. We still need one last push," said Bhelen, a glint in his eyes. "We need a Paragon."

Aedan rubbed his eyes and leaned his head against his hand. "I'm guessing you don't just keep them all in one place, do you?"

"There's only one living Paragon, and 'living' is a stretch."

"Branka," grimaced Aedan. Somehow he knew that eventually he'd have to do the most inconvenient and dangerous thing that Orzammar had to offer: venturing far into the Deep Roads.

"There were rumors about where she went: that she went to find the remaining caches of golems that Caridin had left behind. If we could use those golems, I can't even think about what a leap forward it'd be for our people."

"Why the hell are you so excited? We haven't even found her yet."

"Because you're on the job, Warden," said Bhelen, jutting his finger out at Aedan. "This is what Grey Wardens do: venture into the Deep Roads and slay legions of darkspawn. My father used to tell me stories about how your order would swoop in and slaughter a whole army's worth of the beasts." Bhelen finished off his glass, poured Aedan another refill, and clinked the glasses together. Aedan raised an eyebrow: Bhelen was practically dancing in place. "And you...you're something else. You could pull this off."

Bhelen savoured the wine with long sip. "Cheers, Warden. To our continued success."

Golems, huh? thought Aedan as he looked down into his scarlet stained glass and let the liquid swirl about inside.

* * *

Aedan knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again, and he heard something scuffle inside. "Oghren? You in there?"

"Whatever you think I did, it wasn't me!" came the dwarf's gruff reply, followed by quieter proclamations of "Shit! Shit!".

Aedan could hear the dwarf scrambling behind the door and hastily moving his belongings around. He sighed and knocked again. "You haven't done anything wrong- I'm a Grey Warden and I need some info on Branka."

The hectic footsteps stopped. The door cracked open, and a single eye glared up at Aedan through the opening. "Grey Warden eh?" barked Oghren, "You the one who dragged me back home?"

Aedan was surprised at the lack of alcohol on the man's breath. "Yes, that was me."

The dwarf shut the door, then undid the bolt and lock. He opened it once again, revealing his hastily scuffled away pigsty. Dirty laundry poked out of overstuffed drawers. "Come in then, but I ain't cleaning up."

"You know what, Aedan, I think I'll just wait outside. I think you've got this handled." Leliana cringed at the mess before her. A rat zipped across the floor, and the sister gagged. The dwarf rolled his eyes and let Aedan in alone while the others waited outside.

"You were a lot less friendly when I met you," said Aedan as he looked for a place to sit. He decided upon an overturned mattress propped up against the wall. He slumped down into it, letting his hips and back curve against the floor and his eye level fall to Oghren's.

"Well Warden, one thing I've learnt as a drunk bum is that the measure of a truly great man is whether or not he's willing to help drag home a piss-drunk fellow, and then  _not_  rob him blind." Oghren poured Aedan a glass of whiskey and handed it to him. "You're alright in my books."

"You  _do_  know it's early morning?"

"Is that a no?" grunted Oghren.

Aedan smiled and took swig from his glass. The dwarf raised his bottle and guzzled down a mouthful. "What do you want to know?" he belched.

Aedan leaned forward on his knees and tapped his index fingers together. "How do I find Branka?"

"With a lot of lanterns and patience," muttered Oghren as he leaned against the stairway and looked at the portrait of Branka. Aedan noticed a distinct lack of dust and filth on the painting; perhaps it was the only thing the dwarf kept clean.

"Why, you planning on going into the Deep Roads?" Oghren snorted.

"That's the plan."

The dwarf paused and turned to him, his eyes narrowed as he tried to surmise whether Aedan was lying or not. "You're serious?"

Aedan nodded. The dwarf threw his hands into the air, making an exasperated face. "Of course, for all the years I've been lobbying the Assembly to get an expedition out, they didn't budge a muscle, but once someone important needs Branka, it's all hands on deck. Sodding hypocrites."

The dwarf seemed irritated: perhaps Aedan needed to sell this some more. "Out of any expedition," he began, "we have the best chance of success. Grey Wardens are specialized in killing darkspawn. We have mages along that can also make remedies to protect against the taint. We have a golem that can-"

Alcohol sprayed across the room and hit Aedan in the face. The Warden growled as his wiped the stinging liquid from his face. Oghren ignored his annoyance and said, "Wait a fucking minute. You have a golem?"

"Yeah. That's what Branka was looking for, right? Caridin's golems?"

"No Warden, Branka was always keeping her eyes on bigger game. She was looking for the Anvil of the Void- the way by which Caridin made his golems."

"So if we found her...we could make more golems?"

"Exactly."

"That could change the entire tide of the Blight- even help the dwarves retake the Thaigs." Aedan took a deep breath in, his mind racing. Shale was an incredible asset to his team: imagine if even one of the armies he had gathered had a whole support group of golems backing them up. What Aedan regretted was the lack of sturdy armies he had recruited. The mages, although they had amazing firepower, lacked defensive training. Many of them had never been in battle, and only had fought one demon in their entire career during their Harrowing. The elves excelled in hit and run tactics, and they had far more archers then frontline warriors. Furthermore, their wandering and lack of established homeland led to a dwindling population. The soldiers of Redcliffe were just that: the soldiers of one village. He needed an army to fight the entire horde, to plow his way straight to the damn Archdemon. The sturdy, battle hardened dwarves would make a fine addition, but the golems...

Aedan grinned internally, barely able to contain his excitement.

They did not tire. They did not fear. They did not eat. They did not sleep. What could be a more perfect soldier?

Oghren noticed Aedan's contemplative expression. He stroked his dirty red beard and grunted. "Let's make deal then," he said, offering his hand, "you take me with you, and I'll show you the way. It's about damn time I found my wife."

* * *

_Bryce Cousland sat in his study, enjoying a peaceful book-reading session. He leaned back in his plush reading chair and sighed in content. He brought the cup of chamomile tea to his mouth, taking a sip of warm, calming liquid, It was nice, not having to deal with politics, wife, or children for a few peaceful moments-_

_"Father, so I was walking in the market today...and...how do I say this tastefully-" interrupted Aedan as he round the corner._

_So much for relaxation. Bryce sighed and put down his cup of tea. "I can already tell I don't want to hear this," he said, not looking up from his book._

_"I spot this lovely woman with... with a big ol pair of textbooks if you know what I'm saying."_

_Bryce groaned and looked up towards the sky."Maker, feel free to take back this blessing of a child."_

_Ignoring his father's irritated mood, Aedan crossed his arms and leaned against the bookshelf. "And so I go over there, all charming like, using my old charm on her, flirting with her, but she'll have none of that! It turns out, she's one of those intellectual types. She's says "I bet you noble boys just have dust rolling about in your head. I bet you can't even understand what I'm studying.' And so she pops out one of her textbooks."_

_His father looked at him, bewildered. Aedan laughed, "She was actually carrying textbooks. Do you take me for some sort of pervert, Father?"_

_"Carry on, I guess," sighed Bryce._

_"And it's all this complicated stuff. And she goes off ranting about how the nobility of Fereldan has fallen to such low education standards, and on and on. Really, it was quite infuriating. She took a whole rant to just tell me how stupid she thought I was." Aedan closed his eyes and shooked his head in disapproval. "So I was wondering if you knew anybody that could deal with ciphers and codes and the such, so next time I see this lass I can-"_

_"So you want me to help you get petty revenge and pick up some random woman," said Bryce._

_"Isn't that what family's for?" smiled Aedan the best he could._

_Bryce grumbled and rubbed his forehead with his fingers. Honestly, he just wanted to read his book in peace at this point. He grabbed a piece of paper and hastily scribbled down an address and name. "If it keeps you out of trouble with all these swords and dangerous people you've been dealing with lately, I'll be glad to ship you off into some woman's arms. Let her deal with you instead of me. I have an old friend from back during the war with Orlais who should be able to help you out. Just promise me you won't get into too much trouble again."_

_"Father, how much trouble can I get into with a bunch of books?" chuckled Aedan. He strode out the front door of his house, gave a nod to the guards that had been stationed outside, and headed to the alleys. The guards on duty to protect the Couslands from Adair had been lax as of late; since no news had come up regarding Adair, the general assumption had been he had simply fled for his life._

_Aedan trailed into the alleyway where Adair stood in wait. The older man's face was obscured by his hood, and countless other people moved outside of the alleyway, hiding the two's meeting._

_"Your father suspect anything?" Adair pulled his hood closer over his face, just in case._

_"Just the usual troublemaking," replied Aedan._

_"Seems sort of rude, lying to your father like that."_

_"I don't want to hear about rudeness from you," groaned Aedan, stretching his arms out. "I have a visit to make to Teharel's. I don't think you're too welcome there."_

_Adair nodded and waved Aedan off. "I'll meet you at the regular meeting spot so we can travel to the address together."_

* * *

_Aedan knocked twice on the door, and was greeted by Jarat opening up the door. The elf greeted Aedan with a smile and called out, "Teharel, Aedan's here!"_

_"Oi Aedan!" Teharel grabbed his crutches and hobbled over to Aedan. He'd been losing some weight recently, and his skin looked a little paler. It'd already been a few months since they had met Adair in the Alienage, and it had been that same night the mages had given Teharel only about a year to live. The old elf grunted in pain and clutched his side. Hijaya grabbed him by the waist and helped him up. "Thanks, dear," laughed Teharel. The elf held himself up by the table and directed Aedan to the backyard of the apartment complex._

_Every so often, Aedan would come by and show Teharel the results of his training. The elf, although he could no longer spar with Aedan due to his condition, could still critique Aedan's technique. Strength training was something Aedan could handle on his own, but Aedan needed someone experienced to guide him in the finer points of swordplay._

_Aedan whirled in place as his sword swiped up and down. He imagined his opponent before him, dodging his blows. Aedan slammed his shield right in front of him- his imaginary opponent stumbled backwards. In that momentary distraction, Aedan struck at the right arm._

_"Too many unnecessary movements," commented Teharel, "Are you trying to hit somebody with your flailing limbs or something?"_

_"I was trying to simulate disarming him," replied Aedan, leaning down on his knees and panting. He still hadn't gotten used to rapid movements of the sword. When he had dueled with nobles, it had slower blows with more force behind them. Teharel had always been more a fan of explosive bursts of cuts and slashes._

_"It's far more efficient to just cut off his head."_

_"Well, let's hope it never comes to that, shall we?" Aedan grimaced._

_To be honest, Aedan felt rather uncomfortable being there, pretending like everything was normal. Everything wasn't. He was working with the man who had given Teharel his death sentence. He lying to his father about dangerous activities he was up to. Lies had begun to pile upon more lies._

_Not that others didn't do it. Hijaya still wore her smile as she helped her father around the house, but she too must have noticed how much worse Teharel was doing, not to mention that she had to deal with her own pregnancy. Teharel would smile and joke about how he wasn't long for this world, joke about how he was getting old, but even he must have felt his own looming death over his shoulder._

_Even his own father would hide the stress he underwent from the meetings with politicians. Out of all the Fereldan nobles, only Bryce Cousland was one of the willing to talk with the Orlesians. Doing so, however, had painted their family in a unenviable light among some. They'd whisper behind the Couslands' back and sometimes lodge complaints against their family. His father tread a fine line between loyal countryman and being seen as a traitor._

_The lies they told others and themselves, they weren't meant to hurt people. People had their burdens to carry, burdens they didn't want others to carry._

_So Aedan would smile and say it was alright. That everything was peaceful and everything would be okay. He didn't want to burden his family with the worries of what he was doing in secret, nor burden Teharel's with it either._

_Perhaps, the more Aedan smiled and lied, eventually his lie that everything was alright would be the truth._

_Once again, Aedan started slashing, and accelerated his footwork. As he weaved around the garden, Aedan tripped over an overturned rock and crashed to the ground. He coughed out the sand that had gotten into his mouth. Teharel cringed as Aedan wiped the blood off his nose. "You all right there lad?"_

_"I'm fine," said Aedan, ignoring the throbbing pain in his nose._

* * *

Aedan, laying on his bed roll, stared up into the vast chasm above him for what seemed to be the third hour.

He rolled up his blanket and bedroll and headed towards the campfire. If he could not sleep, he would at least stay near the warm fire. He rubbed the areas under his eyes- despite his fatigue and aches, he still couldn't sleep. It was strange- like being stuck in some halfway state of slumber and being awake. The conversations around the campfire or on the road all seemed to blur together while he ambled through the day.

The first day of the expedition had gone off without a snag. To be fair, save for the occasional darkspawn, it was rather boring. Most of the surrounding Deep Roads had been cleared out by scavengers and previous expeditions. Some of the Carta used to reside in the old building, evidenced by the graffiti that lined some of the ancient walls.

As Aedan tiptoed through his sleeping companions, he noticed one of them sleeping far apart from the rest. Morrigan, per usual, situated herself away from the others, even though it meant she was farther from the campfire. She lay curled up in her ragged blanket, quietly breathing in and out. "Idiot," she muttered in her sleep. Aedan smiled- even in her dreams, her sharp tongue never changed.

The witch shivered every few seconds: her bedroll was not that thick. The group had packed light for the expedition. Most of them had heavier clothing to change into though, except for Morrigan. Squatting down next to her, Aedan gently placed his hand against her cheek for her temperature. Her cold soft skin sent a small shiver down his arm. Aedan rolled his eyes and draped his blanket over her. The witch instinctively pulled the blanket to her, still emanating Aedan's residual warmth. She mumbled inaudibly as she slumbered. Aedan got back up and proceeded to the fireplace.

Shale stood at the fire, and it's gaze followed Aedan as the warden took his seat by it. Aedan nodded in it's direction and pulled out a loaf of bread to chew on. At the very least, if he could not enjoy his sleep he'd enjoy a meal and some warmth instead. After several minutes of silence, save for Aedan's chewing, Shale asked, "What does food taste like?"

Aedan's bread hovered outside of his mouth. "Uh..."

Scratching his head, Aedan had to consider: how do you describe the taste of food to one who has never had it before? He fondly remembered Nan's special chocolate mousse, a sweet, decadent treat with a slight kick of mint and a lovely texture. She used to make it on special occasions, just for the family, never at any of the public gatherings. Yet he could only describe it as "sweet" or "minty" or "delicious"- these words meant nothing to Shale.

"It tastes good," he shrugged, continuing to chew his food. The golem watched him closely, so much that Aedan slowed his chewing at the golem's unusual stare.

"How very eloquent of it," said the golem dryly.

"What piqued your curiosity?"

"Well, simply because the Warden seems to eat all the time, and it must do so for some reason. I've seen no other human eat quite as much as it, except for maybe the fat ones."

Aedan swore that the golem's stone face, though it barely moved, was twisted into a smirk. The warden scowled before taking another bite. "I expend a lot of energy, don't judge me."

"So tis merely a thing of a necessity? Or does it do so because it desires?"

"A little bit of both I guess. I'll die without it, but I might as well enjoy it."

"Hmm. Interesting."

Aedan mulled over Shale's words, then after a few moments of thought, broke off a large chunk of bread and held it out in his hands. "Want some?" he asked.

"Perhaps it is stupider than I thought after all. It knows that I cannot eat," retorted Shale.

"Well, eating is an experience. It's not just about taste. That's probably the best way I can describe food."

"I cannot smell either, if that is what it is implying."

"Well, at the very least, we can replicate having a meal together. We've spent enough time on guard duty together to warrant at least one." Indeed, the golem was Aedan's most frequent guard partner, considering that neither of them got much sleep. Usually their time together was passed in silence.

Sighing, the golem took the piece of bread and held it between its fingers. The sheer force of its grip smushed the bread into a flat mush. Still, the golem brought the remains to its mouth and moved its stone lips over it. Aedan too took a bite of his crusty bread. The two continued to chew, until Aedan swallowed and the last remnants of crumbs fell from Shale's face.

Shale pondered- although it had not ingested a single piece of the bread, and Aedan had known this would happen, the Warden had still given him a portion of his rations. No one in Shale's lifetime had ever thought to offer it food. It had only ever watched as Wilhelm and his wife laughed over dinner. It had only watched as countless others held picnics under it in the village of Honnleath. Even during its time with the Warden, it had only ever watched as the group rotated on guard duty and shared their meager meals.

In regard to Shale's first meal, Shale could only speak of the feeling, not the taste.

"It tasted good," it muttered, wiping the last bit from its stony face.


	43. Sins

_It had been a week since his father had given him the translator's contact info. To keep his father off his trail, Aedan had brought in a fake code with himself during the daytime, to make sure that he followed up. The translator, Frederic, had been a nice enough man. He guided Aedan through the steps needed for basic code breaking on the fake text that Aedan had brought._

_Adair had told him to meet by the translator's house at midnight, and so in the dark of night Aedan approached the house, shivering in the rain. He tightened the cloak about his face to hide it more. He didn't want anyone knowing that he had been out, lest they place him at Frederic's house. The downpour of rain seemed to help conceal his identity._

_Once Aedan stepped in front of the entrance, Adair opened up the door and and beckoned him inside quickly. "I've got the guy tied up and everything in the back, I think he's about to piss himself," Adair said as Aedan dried himself off._

_Aedan blinked, registering what Adair had just said. "I'm sorry, what?" he said, cocking his head to the side. He peeked down the hallway into an open door, and saw a glimpse of Frederic's struggling figure strapped into a chair. "Speaking of which," groaned Adair, stretching his arms, "I have to take a piss; you mind starting without me while I do my business?"_

_"Why would you tie him up?" seethed Aedan, grabbing Adair by the arm, "This isn't some sort of torture or extortion racket! We said we were just going to scare him a bit."_

_Adair glared at Aedan to remove his grip, a hint of a snarl rumbling from his belly. Aedan's hand darted backwards; part of him had forgotten how dangerous this man truly was. "You've never really done this sort of thing before, have you?" asked Adair._

_The young noble threw his arms in the air. "I'm sorry, I don't torture people in my spare time."_

_"You'd be surprised how many nobles have such deviant interests actually. Some of them even prefer to be on the rack, if you know what I'm saying."_

_"This isn't funny! My father's friend is bound, gagged, and blindfolded in the next room. I didn't want-"_

_"Listen here. I have very specific skill set, and keen sense of when to use it. We don't want this guy talking about whatever we're going to have him translate, for both his and our sakes. He mentions one word of this to the authorities, then others are going to do far worse to him. Ever been waterboarded? It's not fun."_

_Aedan gulped. He knew Adair was right, but the idea of hurting his father's friend, innocent in all this, seemed..unsavoury._

_"I understand that you don't want to hurt this man, but in order to get what we want, we need to bat him around for a bit."_

_"Right," muttered Aedan, covering his head with a metal helm Adair had procured, then draped the hood of his cloak over himself. "Just...promise you'll control yourself."_

_"That's what you're there for. You gotta be useful somehow," chuckled Adair, who neglected to cover his face. His image was already on all the wanted posters all over the city, so it wasn't any use to hide who he was._

_Aedan and Adair entered the stone-walled room and slammed the door shut. The room was filled with wines and smelt of aged grapes and strong alcohol; no doubt his wine cellar. As such, there were no windows, in order to keep the wine free of any fluctuations in temperature or light. Adair struck up a match and lit a single candle._

_In the middle sat the struggling form of Frederic the translator bound to the chair and struggling to free himself. Muffled noises escaped from beneath the moldy sack that covered his head. "Sorry," whispered Aedan under his breath, "I'll make this up to you somehow." He approached Frederic, his hands shaking. No matter what he was doing this for, even if they weren't going to hurt him, this didn't feel right. Aedan gulped and pulled the bag off of Frederic's head._

_Surprisingly, the man's face was unharmed. Aedan sighed in relief: at least Adair hadn't done any pre-torture._

_"I want you to translate this," said Aedan in as deep a voice as possible. He pulled out the stack of documents and lay them before the man. He placed his finger one the first line, and grunted in as menacing a tone as possible: "Start reading." He cut the rag out Frederic's mouth and took several steps backwards. Frederic looked up and down back at the documents and to Adair and Aedan._

_"Why?" stuttered the man._

_"Wrong answer," said Adair, who glided behind the man. Adair traced his knife along the back of the man's neck. The cold steel tip gently sliced into his skin, and the faintest dribble of blood ran down his skin. Frederic whimpered and his body's shaking rattled the chair against the ground._

_Out of nowhere, Adair punched the man straight in the stomach. The man cried out silently in pain, for the punch had knocked the wind out of him. Aedan whipped his angry gaze at Adair, who gave him a stern look back._

_"Now read," growled Adair. Frederic took a few moments to collect himself, then began to mouth the words he translated under his breath. However, in the middle of his mental translation, his eyes grew determined and he looked back up at the two._

_"I- I won't tell you."_

_"What?"_

_"This...this is the king's cipher. The first sentence is, "To those loyal to the crown, protect this information from those who would threaten our country""_

_"I know you...from the posters. You conspired with the king's attempted assassin...you almost killed my friend Bryce's son! I'm not telling you a damn thing," shouted the man in defiance. "I'd rather die, you hear me!" He shook his chair and struggled once again to get free. Adair groaned and beckoned Aedan outside._

_Once they were out of earshot, Adair asked, "This guy, who exactly is he?"_

_"Frederic...back in during the war against Orlais, this was the man in my father's camp who deciphered the coded orders sent from the king to his army. It makes perfect sense that he'd be able to decode this messages if your squad was sanctioned by the crown," said Aedan. A foreboding look came over Adair's face that Aedan didn't like. His stomach lurched and Aedan tasted a distinct acidic flavor in his mouth._

_"It also means he's loyal like a dog, and that isn't going to help us here," mused Aedair darkly._

_"What are you suggesting?"_

_"The moment he figured out it's the king's cipher the guy clamped it. He's not some prissy noble who I can threaten with a few punches." Adair grimaced and said, "You know what we have to do."_

_"We are not torturing him!"_

_"I don't see any other choice. This guy clearly knows how to translate the rest of this, and I don't think I'm going to find anyone else who can translate the king's cipher...at least not before my employer tries to have me killed."_

_"And what if it's a dead end, and he won't give up the information even until death?"_

_Adair scoffed at Aedan. "Everyone talks, kid."_

_Aedan looked back and forth between Adair and Frederic in the other room, his hands fidgeting by his side. Adair was right; they had to escalate the situation to get the information out of Frederic- but none of this was Frederic's fault. He didn't deserve to be in that chair._

_"He's innocent, Adair," said Aedan, "but I'm not."_

* * *

_Frederic shivered and pulled his arm against the ropes, trying his best to break free. His captors had been gone for several minutes now; if there was ever a time to escape, it was now._

_"Alright, Frederic, I'm going to make this a little more interesting," slithered Adair as he reentered. Frederic couldn't see anything beyond his blindfold, but he could hear Adair dragging something heavy into the room; the irritating sound of wood scraping against stone grated against Frederic's ears._

_Adair sneered, undid Frederic's blindfold, and lit a candle. Frederic's eyes took a moment to adjust to the light, but he saw before him the bruised and bloodied figure of his friend's son._

_"Aedan?" whispered Frederic, "No, this can't be happening-"_

_Aedan pretended to futilely struggle against his bonds. Adair had roughed him up as Aedan had suggested and strapped him in the chair, but it was up to Aedan to sell the initial act that he had been gravely wounded._

_"You know, as I was passing by, scouting you out, I happened to see a familiar young man happen into your shop," said Adair, pacing about the room. He scraped his knife against the stone walls as he circled the two men. "The same young man responsible for my imprisonment- and the same one who led my apprentice to being executed...I think the implications are clear," whispered Adair into Frederic's ear, smiling as he did so. Adair lunged at Aedan and swung with everything he had into Aedan's face. Aedan, still bound to the chair, fell to the ground, where a trail of blood trickled from Aedan's mouth._

_"Hey Frederic," coughed Aedan through the blood in his mouth, "Fancy seeing you here."_

_Adair loomed over Aedan. "Shut the hell up, kid." A familiar chill ran down Aedan's spine as he watched Adair's darkened expression. The heel of Adair's boot smashed into his stomach. Aedan's entire world spun as Adair kicked him over and over again. Aedan gritted his teeth and struggled to stay conscious through the sea of pain. He sputtered out droplets of blood and saliva with each blow._

_"Maker, stop it! He's just a kid!" screamed Frederic, who struggled against his bonds._

_Aedan's vision blacked out for a second from the pain. The next he knew he was being pulled up by his hair. Adair drew his knife and held it against Aedan's throat._

_"The Maker can't help him. Only you can."_

_Frederic clamped up yet again, but Aedan saw his will breaking; sweat dribbled down his forehead as the man bit his lip. He no longer had the stoic expression of a soldier. Adair placed the stack of papers on Frederic's lap, and pointed once again to the first sentence. "Translate it."_

_Frederic hesitated for several moments, still shaking in his chair. Adair sighed and brought his knife upwards above Aedan's leg._

_Isn't this a little bit too convincing? thought Aedan desperately, his heart beating wildly against his chest in fear._

_"I'll do it! Stop!" Frederic rattled against his bonds. "Just...give me a few moments to translate all of it."_

_Adair smiled and dropped his knife to the ground. Aedan sighed in relief and leaned his head backwards as the adrenaline subsided from his system. For a moment there, he thought Adair might have actually stabbed him._

_Frederic began his translation: "This one...is about the ordered burning of the village called Stonewell." Frederic's mouth twisted in horror as he read the details whilst his voice trembled, "On the third year of Maric's-"_

_"I know about that one. Dissenters in the nobility and a upcoming peasant revolt. Next."_

_"Execution of Orlesian apologists, later discovered to be innoc-"_

_"Next."_

_"Torture and imprisonment of those threatening to expose the Whittlebern incide-"_

_"Next."_

_"Burning of the plague ridden members of the Chantr-"_

_"Next."_

_"Kidnapping the daughter of one Bann-"_

_"Next."_

_"Assassination of the owner of the Portsward Shipping Company and his successors-"_

_"Next," said Adair, an unease in his voice Aedan had not heard before. The man's shoulders slumped and he looked down at the stone beneath his feet. One by one Frederic listed off the sins of a time long ago. Adair clenched his fists as the list continued on. Frederic looked at the trembling fists of his captor and paused before continuing._

_"Do you want me to conti-"_

_"Keep going." Adair holding the knife once again to Aedan's neck. The edge broke his skin and blood dribbled down Aedan's bruised and bloodied chest._

_Frederic turned over to the next page in the document. "There's a Chantry...in a small village called Westholme. There you'll find the bastard...and the lamb skin package."_

_Both Adair and Aedan widened their eyes at the mention of the word 'bastard'. Adair stomped over to Frederic. "The package?" He held the knife to Frederic's throat. "What package?"_

_"I don't know what they're talking about, I swear! That's all that's written" sputtered Frederic, "Please, just let us go!"_

_Adair snarled and cut loose Frederic from his bonds. The translator rushed over to Aedan and began checking his wounds. Adair's knife clattered to the ground next to Frederic, who then cut Aedan loose. Aedan collapsed to the ground, clutching his stomach._

_"Don't worry. Just keep your mouth shut and don't tell a soul I came by here. I see any authorities on my trail, and I'll be visiting you and the kid," threatened Adair. He gazed once at the heaving and bloodied Aedan, before turning his back to the two and unlocking the door._

_"Was this...these things in the documents...you?" asked Frederic quietly to Adair's turned back. He attempted to cut Aedan free, but his hands shivered so much that the knife dropped to the floor once again. "Who...what...are you?"_

_Adair's reply was barely more a whisper. Aedan watched the expression on the older man's face twist as the words escaped his mouth and Aedan's blood ran down his knuckles._

_"Just a monster."_

_The door slammed shut._

* * *

When Aedan closed his eyes, he could still see the black beady eyes of the broodmother as she shrieked right in his face. He could still smell her sickening bile and feel the little bits of flesh splash against his face. Aedan shuddered awake, sweat dripping down his pale forehead. He let out a weak sigh and rubbed his face. So much time away from the sunlight had left him feeling sick. His clammy, cold skin reminded himself of a corpse. Aedan took a moment to smell under his armpits and gagged. Apparently it had left him smelling like one too.

Walking over to the camp, Aedan was surprised to find someone else there as well. "Still have that headache?" asked Alistair. He too looked intensely fatigued; no doubt the broodmother had stuck with him too.

Aedan grimaced and uncorked his flask. Of the "essentials" that Oghren had packed, one knapsack had been filled with alcohol, much to the displeasure of some others. Aedan however did not mind, as long as the dwarf shared with him. He took a couple of swigs and let the familiar burning feeling fill his mouth. Dwarven hard liquors always had a kick to them. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and threw the flask to Alistair. "This'll help."

Alistair gingerly peered inside of the flask. "What is inside this? I'm not really a fan of the stronger stuff; more a fan of ale and such."

"Alistair, I'm fairly certain you've been stabbed in the foot before and managed to shake that off for a good hour. A little bit of strong alcohol will be nothing for you."

Alistair sighed and took a swig of the burning liquid, coughing as it fell down his throat. "That is...quite strong."

Silence passed as Alistair threw the bottle back to Aedan. "Did you know?" asked Aedan quietly, "About the broodmothers? About where the darkspawn came from?"

"I didn't." Alistair's shoulders slumped forward. "They never told me. Shows how high up the ranks I was. It even took them a whole half a year before they told me about the Calling."

"The what?"

Alistair froze. His eyes darted over at Aedan then back at the ground. "I...right, they wouldn't have told you. You had just been recruited." His hands fumbled with the fabric of his pants. He gulped.

"Judging by your tone, I'm guessing I need to finish this-" Aedan shook his flask, "-off before you tell me about what this Calling is."

"I wouldn't blame you."

"Maker, I was half-joking." Aedan raised his eyebrows and finished off his flask. "Based off the name, we're...recruited to do something?"

"The taint within us, it gives us tools to fight the darkspawn: increased strength and speed, the ability to sense darkspawn and the archdemon, and...immunity to the taint. Except we're not really immune to the taint."

Aedan held his breath. Alistair leaned forward, wringing his hands, and continued: "This taint inside us, it's killing us. Slowly, but surely, it will kill us."

"...How long do we have?"

"Thirty years. Maybe less, due to the Blight."

"So...thirty years...I...that's not bad. I mean...shit...not great, but not bad." Aedan exhaled. Despite the news of his oncoming death, it was far off in the future. If he lived through this Blight, he might even even live longer than his father had. Aedan grimaced- not that he had a clear plan for after the Blight. It was just going to be...better. It had to be. "So how does it happen?" he asked, "Do I just die in my sleep or something?"

"If only. I remember one Warden telling me about it: it starts out as a whisper in your head, like someone's humming in the next building over. Then one day it's no longer a whisper. They're right behind you, singing softly, sweetly, in your ear."

"The Old Gods."

Alistair nodded. "Yeah. And before it goes too far, before the call of the Old God's take us, the warden takes one last journey to the Deep Roads, armed to the teeth. They don't come back out."

Aedan stared up at the vast caverns surrounding the campsite, and the infinite darkness that almost swallowed the campfire whole. He took a deep breath in of the thick, humid air. "So this is where we're going to die. Our grave."

"Could use some paint. Maybe some scented candles."

"Maybe some decorative banners." Aedan sighed and stoked the fire. "We really did get a shit job, didn't we?"

The templar half-chuckled. His hand rubbed at the back of his neck. "It think it's safe to say that."

"What else did the Grey Wardens not tell us, I wonder?" Aedan took another sip from his flask. He had always looked up to the Grey Wardens as a child, thinking them of incorruptible defenders of the innocent. And yet now being one, it was the exact opposite. They were born from the death of others, and would die in the darkest god-forsaken trenches of the Deep Roads, most likely to become food for darkspawn. Men like Avernus, and even Duncan, had killed good men to secure the Grey Warden's future.

That was their job. To stop the Blight by any means necessary.

His job now.

* * *

They neared where Branka's expedition notes had placed the Anvil at. After killing the broodmother, they had gathered the remains of Hespith's belongings and discovered several marked maps with here, detailing all the dangerous passages and blocked exits. Hespith had made sure that long after her death, Branka would feel her vengeance.

Aedan looked over the map to make sure he was getting this right: only a few feet away was where the main camp had set up, right outside where the Anvil of the Void was supposed to be located. The outside light shone into the tunnel, and it was smelled less and less like mold as they moved forward. Sweat ran down his back, but not from nervousness; the temperature had begun to rise. A barely audible rumble echoed in his ears. Aedan looked around for the source of the noise. "You hear that?" he inquired aloud.

"Sure it's not just your stomach again, Warden?" joked Leliana, poking him in the stomach. Aedan scowled and said, "I'm serious, it's like some sort of rumbl-"

The noise intensified and Aedan instinctively shot his gaze upwards, only to see a steel slab slamming downwards. In a split second Aedan threw Alistair backwards into the rest of the group behind him, and kicked himself forward. The edge of the steel wall crashed a mere hair's width away from Aedan's foot.

"Close one." Aedan looked behind him to see who else was with him: Only Shale, Oghren, and Zevran had made it with him. All the others now lay beyond the wall. While dusting himself off, Aedan asked, "Shale, can you try knocking this-"

Shale slammed a craggy fist into the steel door. A girlish shriek from behind the steel wall and the sound of tumbling rocks seemed to indicate that Leliana was in trouble.

"I'm alright, the rocks nearly fell on me," came Alistair's reply, along with giggle from Leliana and Wynne. "Stop laughing!" cried the templar.

"Ah, of course, that was Alistair." Zevran attempted, but failed, to cover his laughter.

"Yes, I'll admit, it was a less than masculine yelp- I can see you smiling, Sten, stop that!" screamed Alistair from behind the wall, "Aedan, a whole bunch of rocks came down. Whatever you do, don't shake the damn thing again."

"Can you you loop back and find another way around?" Zevran traced his fingers against the bottom of the door, looking for any sort of structural weaknessor keyhole. He turned back to Aedan and shook his head.

"Another door slammed down behind us at the same time," replied Alistair, "so we can't come back the way we came."

"Give me a second, I'll blast through this," stated Morrigan matter of factly.

"No!" said Alistair, right before the ceiling above the two groups suddenly shook from Morrigan's spell. Aedan could hear the the faint sizzle of Morrigan's blast as it's energy died down. He heard scuffling beyond the wall, and Morrigan yelped. Apparently the others were holding her down.

Oghren brushed his fingers against the cold steel wall. "It's metal...this is dwarven made. Enchanted with lyrium. Gives the same rotten tingly feeling whenever I touch one of your mage's crafts. It'll take a lot more than mages to blast through this thing."

"They've got limited air in there as well. Fire may not be the best idea," said Zevran.

"Well well," echoed an eerie voice. Aedan whipped around to face the intruder. An armor clad female dwarf, dripping with darkspawn blood, stood atop the nearby ledge, staring down upon Aedan and what remained of his group. Her eyes darted from person to person, analyzing and calculating in silence.

"Four should be a good test run," came her verdict, "If you fail, the other five and the dog should be able to get through. If you succeed...then the wall opens up. Either way, you'll need to move forward so you can come back to them."

Oghren gaped at the dwarven woman in shocked silence. After a few moments, he jumped up in joy. "Branka! It's me! Oghren!"

Branka narrowed her eyes as she watched her filthy husband wave his hands about, trying to get a response from her. "Quiet fool," she snapped, "I could smell your unshowered, booze-ridden beard from leagues away."

"Ah that piercing tongue that I just loved so much," Oghren muttered, the smile dropping from his face.

"As much of a blithering idiot you were and are Oghren, you did have a knack for destroying things. You ought to do a good job," said Branka in a tired, monotone voice. Turning her attention to the others, Branka mused, "Let's see what we have here."

A small twinkle returned to her eyes when she saw Shale. "A working golem. My my. Perhaps you do stand some chance after all. The best way to break Caridin's god forsaken traps is with his own creations, so far as I've tested."

Her gaze fell on Zevran, and the twinkle died in her eyes. "The elf is scrawny. He will do you no good. He'll die first."

Zevran scowled in offense. "I can see why you married her, Oghren. Such a loving aura."

Finally Branka looked upon Aedan. A smile flickered at the edge of her mouth. "Ah. A Grey Warden. Good. I need someone to clean out the remaining darkspawn I let loose."

"What makes you think we're going to do anything you ask, after what you did to your team?" Aedan narrowed his eyes and stared squarely at Branka. "I saw what you did to Hespith."

Branka raised her eyebrow at Aedan's skepticism. "I did what was necessary. I consider myself quite the mechanical genius, yet even Caridn's designs elude my understanding. The only way to the Anvil of the Void is through trial and error." Branka sighed. "And you need fodder to make errors."

She was too calm. Too composed. How could she just stand there like that? Aedan's fist clenched and trembled at his side as he looked at the half-eaten skeletons that lined the cavern. No doubt the darkspawn had feasting upon them.

"Is that what you call it? 'Error'? Is it error to herd and sacrifice your house against their will like cattle? To feed them to these creatures? Let them become darkspawn?"

"They fully understood the risks when they joined my expedition, just as your team does as well. It is the burden of the leader to make the tough decisions. The good ones will trudge towards their objective, no matter the cost." Her voice rumbled and filled with her passion. "Make no mistake, Warden. I will save my people."

Aedan's eyes met Branka's. He could see the bags beneath her eyes and the joyless expression that she wore. Her eyes reminded him of Adair and Teharel; tired from their burdens and sins, yet still filled with a fire. Aedan grimaced. He wondered if he looked the same now too. Branka silently acknowledged Aedan with a nod, then vanished behind the cliff face.

"Alright, so now that the crazy lady has left," piped Alistair from behind the steel wall, "how about we figure out a way to get rid of this wall?"

"You heard Branka. That wall ain't coming up till we get to the Anvil." Oghren took out his axe and began sharpening it against a nearby rock. "Damn woman never made anything easy for me."

"You can't be serious," said Alistair, "There's only four of you, and we have no idea what's over there...scratch that, you know partly what's over there, Aedan. You can sense it too, right?"

Aedan closed his eyes and concentrated on any nearby darkspawn. He could feel their darkness nearby, throbbing and raring for bloodshed. He opened them and said, "There's a large horde of Darkspawn in the direction Branka headed towards. They're not moving towards us though, so it may be Branka had them trapped. We've got Shale; that should help get us past the traps."

"Fool, just give us some time!" shouted Morrigan.

"You don't have time, that cavern could collapse at any moment."

"We will be out shortly- I just need to-" Aedan could hear Morrigan attempt to struggle from behind the wall, but he heard Alistair chant and a burst of blue energy shone through the cracks beneath the steel door.

"Are you joking?" said Morrigan, louder than her usual calm and composed voice, "He's going to get himself killed, we need to get out of here!"

"We can handle ourselves, Morrigan. I'll see you in a bit." Aedan turned his back on the steel door. "Come on guys, we need to hurry-"

Behind the steel door, Morrigan listened to the loud footsteps of Shale grow fainter as Aedan and his group left. Morrigan looked amongst the faces surrounding her and realized that for the first time in a long while, Aedan was not there. She could not see what was happening to him or what danger he could be in. Of course, he would shrug off his injuries and problems as though they weren't there, but Morrigan always knew after each battle the scars Aedan brought back with him.

"Of course you can handle yourself," muttered Morrigan, a tremble in her voice as she held her hands over her chest. An anxious pang swirled in her heart, sickening and dizzying, like a disease.

* * *

Aedan pushed back the final doors, groaning as he exerted himself. The gauntlet leading up to here had taken its toll on all of them. Aedan himself had taken some blunt blows from golems in the traps. Dealing with the golems, ghosts, and darkspawn had been problematic to say the least. They were almost out of bandages, and without a dedicated healer they could only rely on what little poultices they had.

The rush of heat blasted against Aedan's face. Beyond the door lay a sizzling landscape of molten orange lava that cascaded over massive subterranean mountains. A massive shadow fell over him and blotted out the magma's light. Aedan looked up to see a titan towering over him. Reacting instinctively, Aedan drew his sword and scrambled backwards. The golem in front of him towered above even Shale; it's metal was old and rusted, but still looked well put together.

"Stranger, I see that accursed woman has finally found her way past my traps," came an old, metallic sounding voice, like that of a man in a suit of armor.

"You can talk. Interesting." Aedan lowered his sword. Perhaps it could be reasoned with, like the werewolves.

"Indeed," stated the massive golem, "I am Caridin...the creator the Anvil of the Void, the fool who thought to harness golem craft."

"Caridin lived hundreds of years ago," said Oghren, "Don't be ridiculous."

"Indeed I did. Long ago, I used magic and steel to forge golems of immeasurable strength. However, the one thing I could not forge...was the soul. We crafted enchanted golem shells using my Anvil of the Void. Then, we would lower in the dwarves and pour the molten lyrium and metal upon them."

"The golems...were dwarves?" Shale's craggy hands shook.

"Yes, you among them, Shale." Caridin turned to the smaller golem. "You were one of the most loyal, and stayed with me till the very end, until I sent you away. One of the most loyal women I've ever met."

"I was a dwarf?" uttered Shale in disbelief, "A dwarf woman?" It looked down at it's hands, then back up at Caridin.

"At first it was only volunteers, like Shale, but then...then the King of Orzammar began to force others to undertake the painful ritual. Scores of unwilling dwarves were forced to have their bodies seared by molten metal and forced into becoming...what I am now. I tried to stop them, but for my impudence, I too was forced to become one of my own creations, enchanted so that neither me nor my golems could destroy the very creator of our existence: the Anvil."

Caridin faced Aedan once again. "You cannot fathom our pain. Do you understand what it is like to no longer be able to feel the wind upon your face? To feel the relief of sleep? The taste of food?" Caridin's voice, tinged with pain and regret, carried throughout the chamber and echoed in Aedan's ears.

"The only thing that has kept me going all these years was the hope that someone would come to destroy this accursed thing-"

Footsteps scuttled against the ground. Branka charged into the chamber, her shield and axe drawn.

"Do not listen to that fool, Warden!" shouted Branka, who strode up to the behemoth and scowled at him. No doubt that Caridin stood four times as tall as Branka, but the dwarven woman did not hesitate as she brandished her axe. "Foolish old man, you have not seen what Orzammar has become! It is a shadow of it's former glory, the last stronghold before the darkspawn overtake us all! But with the Anvil, we can retake all the Thaigs! We can reclaim our heritage as dwarves!

"I have spent two years of my life searching for this Anvil, and I have sacrificed everything and everyone to get it. Do not get in my way,' she snarled backwards at Aedan, not even giving him a second glance.

"I will not allow you to attempt to take the Anvil. This abomination must be destroyed." Caridin snapped his fingers, and an armada of golems poured from the sides. About fifty or so poured out from behind him, and half of them circled behind Branka.

Branka scoffed at the surrounding golems and smiled. "Oh old man, you think yourself so secure that these are your comrades? They are not dwarves anymore, only mere constructs. They, and their true loyalty, died long ago." She pulled out a rod and brandished into the air. A slew of sparks flew out from the tip and shot across all the golems which had circled behind her. Their bodies lit up and runic symbols glowed brightly on their foreheads.

"A control rod!" Caridin let sparks fly from his fist that shot through the sky. They entered the golems that Branka had not yet controlled, and as the runic symbols attempted to appear on their foreheads, the bodies of the golems glowed. The symbols upon their forehead faded into nothing.

Branka struck her rod into the ground, sending a small current through the air. Those with the brand atop their foreheads glowed red-hot and brandished their fists.

"Please, help me stranger! Do not let this tyranny continue any longer!" pleaded Caridin, who signaled to the golems with self-control to get into formation. The remaining golem's of Caridin lined up facing the other, Branka controlled ones.

"Do not listen to him!" Branka turned to the Warden. Her eyes glinted and she clenched her fist. "You need these golems to stop the Blight! Imagine how many lives you could save on the surface, Warden!"

A bead of sweat rolled down Aedan's forehead at Branka's comment. Yes, it was wrong taking these living creatures and imprisoning them in steel, but perhaps for the sacrifice of a few the many could be spared. The mistakes of the past had been made and the dwarves could learn from that. He could convince Bhelen and Branka to regulate the golem making process- restrict it only to volunteers.

How many families could he save? Not only directly by the hands of golems, but by how expedited the Blight would be indirectly. Aedan stood there, grinding his teeth and calculating in his head.

_One life for a thousand more. It's simple math, right?_

He had a job to do.

But as Aedan opened his mouth to say his answer, no words left. Only silence would depart his mouth. His throat felt dry and parched, and not from the heat.

Aedan heard behind him a familiar stomping. He turned around to see Shale standing by Caridin. "Shale," whispered Aedan, "I...What are you doing?"

"I will stand...with my brothers and sisters," the golem said. "There should be no more of us made, no matter what. Help me, Warden." The golem paused before adding one last quiet word:,

"Please."

Aedan looked to see the golem's hands shaking. He broke his gaze and stared down at the ground, his mind once again racing. It was strange: this one measly golem, who would not even call him by name nor by the proper pronoun, sent a chill through Aedan's heart. For out of all of them, only it- she, only she understood the pain of a golem's existence.

How much was too much of a sacrifice? Someone, somewhere had to draw the line in that grey area. Aedan knew that neither Branka nor Bhelen would do so.

_I don't know what will possibly happen in the future. Maybe this anvil could save us and the dwarves. Maybe it could lead to our destruction. They're all possibilities. But in front of me…_

Aedan clenched his sword, his sweat stinging against the wounds on his hands.

_A comrade is asking for help. It's not some calculation in my head, not some far off possibility. My comrade is in front of me, asking for help._

Aedan walked in between Branka and Caridin, and turned to face Branka, sword drawn.

"Branka, we have to destroy this thing. You can't control the turmoil this thing will bring to Orzammar. You can't know what whether this thing is a curse or blessing. All I know right now is that these golems...only these people know the pain this thing has brought. If they think it's not worth it, then I'll stand with them."

Zevran silently took his place by Aedan's side, his daggers drawn. Oghren hesitated, looking between Branka and Aedan. The dwarf clenched his teeth and his eyes filled with pain and regret. Clenching his eyes shut, he finally took a slow walk towards the side of Aedan.

Branka looked on, the sides of her lip quivering. "Oghren. You too?"

Oghren forced his eyes open to face his wife, his weapon still by his side. "Branka, just lay down your weapons and nobody has to get hurt. We can go home again. Our house is still there. Please." Tears rolled down his cheek. "We can go back. We can fix what went wrong...just come back."

Silence passed as Branka smiled one last time at her husband. Her eyes filled with glassy tears that refused to fall. Branka hid her face with her dirt stained hand.

"Oh Oghren, you know as well as do...I could never go back home."

Branka wept away a single tear and roared forward.


	44. Sacrifices

The cavern thundered: the constant banging of steel against rock against steel deafened Aedan's ears whilst he struggled to keep up with Branka. Literal shockwaves shot through the air as golems clashed. His bones shook with each step the behemoths took, but he had another problem to worry about.

Branka lept backwards as a golem rushed into Aedan. Aedan braced his body and held up his shield, but to no avail; the rampaging golem sent Aedan flying backwards onto his back. Aedan coughed blood as his pain seared through his entire body.

"You think what you're doing is right? Look at what you traveled through. The Deep Roads are the graveyard of our former civilization. What do you surfacers think happens after the Blight? The darkspawn return home underground to push us further back. How long before Orzammar is lost?" Spit flew from Branka's mouth as she hollered her words: "It's idealists like you that led to the downfall of our nation!" She charged at him and sliced her axe downwards. Aedan rolled out of the way and retrieved his sword and shield. His sword and Branka's axe rang out as they clashed.

"How about you! You sacrificed your entire house just to get here! I saw Hespith and the others, what you let the darkspawn turn them into!" Aedan slammed his leg into Branka and kicked her back.

"They knew the risks!" Branka's axe whirled about and grazed the tip of Aedan's ear. Aedan could barely keep up with her, for this was the fury of woman tempered by two years of fighting darkspawn twice her size. One by one golems from both sides clattered to the ground, their metal shells dented and broken by their comrade's fists. Shale glowed with a dazzling blue light as she thrust her fist through another golem's chest. Shards of metal flew everywhere across the battleground. One flew right past Aedan and sliced him across the cheek.

"It was your responsibility to protect them! You were their leader!" Aedan rammed forward and knocked Branka down with his shield. He didn't waste his time raising his sword for an overhead strike- Aedan thrust the tip of his sword forward straight at Branka's leg. The sword sliced through the woman's flesh, and Branka howled.

With a vicious roar Branka propelled herself off the ground with one push of her arm and slammed a dagger into Aedan's leg. Aedan staggered backwards and gritted his teeth. He pulled the dagger out and whipped it at Branka. The knife sliced through her left eye as she charged forward, axe in hand. She didn't even wince as the blood gushed forth from her face.

"It is because I was their leader that I had the right to sacrifice them! I commanded, they followed, just like these golems now!" Branka's axe collided with Aedan's sword, their faces now dangerously close. Aedan could see the blood and sweat run down her face. "Or are you foolish enough to think that you can get anywhere without sacrificing something?" she spat.

Aedan parried Branka's blow and threw her to the ground. Her axe was flung away off the edge of the cliff. A nearby golem slammed its fist into the ground again and again. Aedan could feel his bones vibrating inside his body with each blow. The rocks beneath them shook. Aedan tried to jump towards more stable ground, but the ledge Branka and Aedan were on collapsed, sending the two tumbling downwards. With his longer limbs, Aedan managed to grab onto the edge of the cliff before he fell. He grunted as he struggled to pull himself up, his bleeding body and armor all. Finally his body collapsed on the cliffside, a small pool of blood forming underneath him. Still, in his haze, he managed to garner up enough strength to turn around and reach his hand down towards Branka, who hung precariously off the cliffside. Her shorter limbs meant that she could not reach any good holds, but if she swung her free arm upwards, Aedan might be able to grab onto her.

"Is this supposed to be funny?" croaked Branka, "Mercy, after everything I've done? You really are a fool." Rocks tumbled down from the cliffside she hung from, her hold destabilizing with each passing second.

Aedan reached down even further, ignoring the pain that shot through the side of his chest from a wound Branka herself had inflicted. "Take my hand!"

Oghren smashed his axe into the final golem's head and rushed over to Aedan. He lurched over the side of the cliff. "Take his hand, Branka, by the Ancestors!" He stared down at his wife, his hands clenched on the side of the cliff while he watched her grip begin to slip.

Crimson blood gushed out of Branka's bleeding left eye. She squeezed it shut and opened the other one the best she could, staring at Aedan in fury. "So what? So I can watch as you let everything I've sacrificed be for nothing?" she spat still trying to climb her way up by herself, "So I can watch as our great culture and people crumble just because you felt sorry for a couple of golems? So I can watch as the Blight kills everything in Thedas?"

Aedan inched further out, reaching his hand until his fingers grazed against Branka's; he wasn't sure if he could grab her by force. "Just take my hand, damn it!"

"Promise then you will save the Anvil!" screamed Branka shrilly, "So that all of this would have been for something!"

Aedan and Branka stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Branka's gaze wavered and strengthened and wavered again.

Aedan clenched his eyes shut. "I can't do that."

With a roar, Branka drove her dagger straight through Aedan's hand. Aedan howled in agony as the knife buried itself into his flesh. He slid further out and his balance was lost; his legs flailed as he struggled to dig his feet into the ground to keep himself from veering off the edge. He couldn't think straight with the throbbing pain shooting through his hand. Luckily, Zevran grabbed hold of his legs and hoisted him to safety. Aedan lay chest down with his face still peering over the edge, looking at the defiant Branka.

"Every single life that could have been saved by those golems, all the people who could have saved by these golems stopping the blight, they're all on you." Branka's sweaty bloodied grip slipped. She had only one hand clasping onto the jagged cliff. Aedan clutched his maimed hand in agony as he watched Branka hang precariously in front of him. "They're all on you, you monster," she whispered one last time.

Branka let go and plummeted into the depths below.

* * *

Aedan winced as he tightened the bandages around his midsection. For now, bandages and poultices would have to keep him until they found Morrigan and Wynne again. He watched as the other golems gathered up the broken pieces of their former comrades. It resembled a junkyard, with the scraps of steel strewn about, but to these golems it was a battlefield of fallen comrades. Aedan bit his lip, thinking back to the blighted lands of Lothering.

Aedan glanced over at Oghren; the dwarf had that dead look in his eyes, the same one Aedan had seen in Alistair's after Ostagar. Aedan surveyed the rest of his companions: Zevran had made it out better than all of them, albeit only with a few cuts and scrapes. He had dodged in and out during the fight. Branka had been right; the elf had been scrawny, and his dagger blows were no more than pins to the golems. The bandaged elf sat on the ground with a bitter expression, lamenting his own uselessness but thankful to be alive.

The thundering footsteps of Caridin approached."I have forged you a crown fit for the finest king," said the ancient golem, the crown in hand. The crown shined with a brilliance akin to the sun, which Aedan found ironic for a king of the underground. Shale followed behind him. She had conversed with Caridin as he had smithed the crown. She had asked simple questions- "Who am I?", "Where was I from?", and replied to Caridin's with simple yes's and no's. The golem still seemed shocked at the recent revelation concerning its former life. If Aedan hadn't known any better, he would say the golem was stumbling a bit as it walked, as though unsure whether or not her stone legs were truly hers anymore.

"Now, will you destroy the Anvil?" asked Caridin, who carefully handed the crown, wrapped in cloth, to Oghren. Aedan nodded quietly and groaned as he struggled to stand on his own two feet. He could still feel Branka's stabs throbbing in his leg and hand. Aedan's hands wrapped around the rusty heavy handle of the smithing hammer. He limped over to the anvil, where he could feel the heat and pressure of the lava beneath him simmer in the air. He raised the hammer above his head, but paused.

"I have one more request, if I may be so bold," asked Aedan. "You have suffered for an eternity, but I ask you suffer for only a few more minutes. I have...had a sword." He set down the hammer softly and held up the sword shards, it's bag soaked in his own blood. "A mage broke it some time ago. The metal's structure has been destroyed by the magic. No smith has been able to reforge it."

He scattered the shards across the Anvil of the Void and bowed his head before Caridin. "This is my own selfish request. This is all I have left of my family."

Caridin clasped a piece between his titanic metal hands and brought up close to his glowing eye. The light in it dimmed and brightened repeatedly as the smith turned the shard over and over again. "The chemical bonds have been broken down on such a small scale that you cannot even fathom how small it is. We will need to reforge these bonds using lyrium and metal."

"And how do we do that?"

"We extract it from source that utilizes both perfectly."

Caridin pointed to the shattered bodies of his comrades that littered the battlefield.

"You mean-"

"In all living creatures, there is a system of nerves that run through each and every one of our bodies. Using this system, our brains sends signals akin to that of the lightning summoned by mages. I expanded upon this theory, theorizing that lyrium could be used as a similar system running through the entire golem's body. As we poured in the metal and lyrium into the golem shells atop the living creatures, the lyrium bounded to their nerves and provided a vessel for the soul to communicate with the metal. I shall melt down their bodies, and use extract the few lyrium-metal bonds in each that held the soul to the metal."

"I…" Aedan hesitated, before explaining, "they're your comrades. Are you sure?"

Caridin made a noise akin to a small laugh. "I think they would not have minded serving under a man like you, wouldn't you agree, Shale?"

The only other golem left, Shale stood amidst the corpses of her brethren, looking around at the dead. She stared at Aedan briefly. With that stone face, Aedan could not tell what the golem was thinking, but after awhile Shale muttered, "I am not opposed."

Caridin nodded and arranged the pieces of Aedan's sword upon the Anvil. "As for the design...would kind of sword would you like? I can craft anything...a rapier, a saber, anything you can imagine. Can you maybe sketch me what it used to look like?"

Closing his eyes, Aedan tried to put into words what the sword had originally looked like. Something simple, with a bit of gold trim- wait no there wasn't any trim. What did the handle look like? Aedan grimaced bitterly. He could not remember what his family sword looked like, nor even describe it in the slightest. Before, when he was a child, he had idolized his family's sword as a symbol of strength and justice. In the past year, he had seen so many swords and weapons that had all blurred together in his mind, each and everyone of them stained with the blood of others.

His eyes moistened. How long before he forgot his family's voices, or their faces? The weary warden shook his head to scatter his train of thought. No. He had to focus. He had been plucked from death, by his parents, by Duncan, by Flemeth, all for one job. That was all he had left. Aedan clenched his bloodied right hand. "I want a sword to kill an Archdemon with.

Caridin nodded. "Then I shall make a sword worthy of such a task." The Anvil glowed a unholy heat, with blue flames billowing from its sides. Caridin smashed and smashed his hammer against the Anvil. With each blow the heat blasted against Aedan's face. The others helped ferry the broken pieces of golems to Caridin, and drop them into the boiling vat of metal nearby. Caridin scooped out the molten metal with his bare hands and carefully separated the pure liquid from the rest. Eventually, a sword began to take shape. The inner edge closest to the hilt had jagged teeth, no doubt for garroting the Archdemon's neck. The hilt had no decoration or formal handle to speak of; Caridin had not bothered with anything of the sort. Once the metal had cooled, Caridin handed the sword to Aedan.

Aedan held the sword in his hands. It was heavier than he remembered, no doubt due to the golem metal that had been added. He eyed the sword up and down. The long blade did not shine; the old metal of both the Cousland blade and the golem metal had long ago lost their shine. Instead it had a dull, grey color to it. A grey blade for a Grey Warden, thought Aedan.

As the Anvil faded from a glowing orange to a cold grey, Caridin stepped aside and beckoned to the Anvil. "If you would, Warden. The Anvil should no longer remain in this world."

Aedan stood above the Anvil and raised the sword with both hands. "If your hammer didn't destroy it, how long will it take for me to destroy it?" he asked.

"The curse is such that I cannot destroy. But age has long since weakened the Anvil. Tis now a simple job," said Caridin.

Aedan nodded and swung the former Cousland blade downwards. As his sword hit the metal anvil, he felt the force travel through the tip of sword and vibrate through his bones painfully. Aedan cringed and shut his eyes, but felt the sword travel further downwards. He looked down to see that indeed the Anvil had been destroyed. The ground rumbled beneath him as beams of magical energy dispersed from the accursed object. "What's next for you?" asked Aedan of Caridin, strapping the sword to his side.

"My family, my friends, and everything I ever cared about are gone. My final job has been completed. There is nothing else for me in this world." The golem walked towards the edge of the cliff. After hundreds of years guarding the Anvil, there was no hesitation as Caridin stood above the chasm of lava.

"Thank you for freeing all of us of this burden," said the aged golem wearily, "Atrast nal tunsha...May you always find your way in the dark." The golem teetered over the edge then tumbled into the lava below him. As the light in the ancient golem's face flickered and died, Aedan watched the lava seep in through the cracks and joints of Caridin.

* * *

Morrigan wrung her hands together. How long had it been since Aedan had left? Morrigan couldn't keep track of the hours in this dimly lit environment. What little light they had was artificial; the group had lit candles to give some light. All the group sat around them as though they were a campfire, and they too had pensive looks on their faces.

I guess they are worried too, thought Morrigan. Indeed, after Aedan and the three others had rushed off, it had taken awhile for her to calm down and stop attempting to break down the door. Even still, it felt like something had wrapped itself around her innards and was squeezing tight. She attempted to take long, deep breaths, but the sickening feeling constricting her heart remained.

The ground rumble beneath Morrigan and the rest. The doors withdrew upwards slowly. The others carefully went up, ready for whatever could come through the door. The hazy flames of the chamber shone into the tunnel. The light blinded Morrigan for awhile, before her vision returned and she saw the figures of Aedan and others approach from behind the pillars of stone.

The limping Aedan cradled his bloody hand. "That idiot," whispered Morrigan as her heart dropped at the sight of his wounded body. Morrigan bolted over and grabbed him by the hand. Her fingers unweaved the tight bandages to reveal a warm bloody knife wound. As Morrigan held his hand in her own, the heavy beat of his heart, pumping out blood, pulsed against her hand. Aedan's blood dribbled down her own wrists as her hand glowed bright green with magic. The wound closed just enough to stop bleeding, then Morrigan released Aedan's hand and began to examine him for more wounds. The Warden stumbled backwards, dizzy from blood loss.

"Stop standing, fool," snapped the witch. Morrigan pushed down on his shoulders and Aedan slid down against the wall, unable to resist even the meager amount of force Morrigan had applied. She kneeled over him and her hands glowed brighter than usual, so much so Aedan had to close his eyes. Her hands moved over his body frantically.

Aedan looked at the worried expression on her face and muttered, "My injuries aren't that bad aren't they?" He grabbed Morrigan's wrist lightly, stopping her panic.

The raven-haired witch glared at him and pulled her wrist away. "I do not know the extent of your injuries. I was not there with you to fight, now was I?" she snapped, her voice rising with each word, leaving an uncomfortable feeling in Aedan's gut.

"Ah," murmured Aedan, glancing again at her expression: tense lips, darting eyes that scanned his wounded body.

"'Ah'? That's all you have to say?," said Morrigan, "I was expecting you to say something like, 'Oh, even you get worried?'"

"Sorry, just-"

Aedan let the back of his head bang against the wall once as Branka's words echoed in his mind.

They're all on you, you monster, she screamed.

"Sorry." His gaze fell to his chest. Morrigan took an anxious note of the man's darkened demeanor, then observed the rest of the dour group. Shale silently stood by watching as Wynne took care of Zevran's wounds. Oghren, usually fired up after a big fight, said nothing and stood alone in a corner. Morrigan looked back at Aedan in front of her, his eyes devoid of his usual light. Her hand lingered on his shoulder.

She wasn't sure why, but Morrigan felt compelled to blurt out, "You know, something very important happened while you were gone."

Aedan furrowed his brow and prepared himself for whatever news may come. What could have happened in that chamber? Did they discover one of them contracted the Blight? Another form of infectious disease? Had their food supply been ruined? Had they run out of fresh wat-

"Alistair screamed like a girl again when one of the candles got too near him," stated Morrigan deadpan.

It took a moment for the woozy Aedan to comprehend what Morrigan had just said. Slowly a smile crept across his face. He chuckled deep from his stomach, coughing up tiny flecks of blood.

"I thought we said we weren't going to talk about that anymore!" seethed Alistair quietly. His face grew red again as Leliana patted him on the back in pity.

"I never agreed. I make it a point to never agree to anything you say," replied Morrigan.

Oghren burst out in hysterics as held his sides sore from combat and laughing. His beard bobbed up and down as he shook in laughter. Zevran hid a quiet smile and chuckled to himself. Of course, Morrigan had not found the joke to be all that funny, but seeing the smile return to Aedan's face made one return to hers as well. The pain that had welled up in her chest slowly trickled away as she held and healed Aedan's injured hand amidst the laughter that echoed through the chamber.

* * *

The obnoxious rambling of the Assembly reminded Aedan of the Landsmeet. He had never particularly enjoyed attending it, and only went when the entire family needed to be represented. Regardless, after the three week trip back from the Anvil, Aedan wanted out of Orzammar as soon as possible. He wanted to feel the sun on his face, feel the wind on his skin, and see the wide open sky.

Hushed whispers filled the chamber as Aedan heaved open the Assembly doors. The representatives of each house all turned their gazes towards him, all muttering in thought. Bhelen smiled deviously as Aedan made his way down the long stairway.

"And what, Warden, might you be doing here? This is a Dwarven matter, not one for surfacers," said Harrowmont, an apprehensive frown forming. Aedan doubted that the man liked him ever since word got out he was working for Bhelen.

Aedan raised above his head a dazzling gold crown. "I have a crown, made by the Paragon Caridin. He was trapped in a golem's body for several hundred years. I came upon him in my search for Paragon Branka and the Anvil of the Void. In the process, the Anvil and both Paragon Branka were lost...but before Caridin committed suicide, he gave me this crown to give to the rightful king of Orzammar."

Aedan turned and pointed to Bhelen, "Of the House Aeducan, your rightful king sits before you, as declared by your Ancestors."

The Assembly exploded in shouts and chaos. The Shaperate banged his gavel against his podium. "Quiet! Let the Warden speak!"

"Objection!" shouted Harrowmont, his voice hoarse and quivering."Are we are supposed to believe this surfacer's lies? It is a known fact that he works for Bhelen!" His hands clenched the podium he stood behind as he watched the smug Bhelen.

"Say what you will, Harrowmont, but check the mark upon the crown, and the dating." Aedan handed the crown to the Shaperate, who took out his looking glass and examined the crown top to bottom. After several moments of silence, the old dwarf remarked, "This is dated...three weeks ago. And this is indeed Caridin's mark. Furthermore, this man is no ordinary commoner. He is a Grey Warden, one who has cleansed this city of the Carta. He has all the necessary proof to back his claims."

"Then does the Assembly acknowledge the legitimacy of my claims?" announced Aedan, surveying the auditorium of dwarven nobles. The dwarfs muttered amongst themselves for a few minutes while Aedan anxiously waited. One by one, all in the Assembly raised their hands in silence. A bead of sweat dripped down Harrowmont's neck as he eyed the exit.

"Then let it be recorded in the Memories that Bhelen of House Aeducan is the new king of Orzammar!" shouted the Shaperate. Bhelen crossed his arms and smirked as the Shaperate walked towards him. The prince bowed before the shaperate, allowing him to place the golden crown upon his head. Bhelen stood back up, a prince no longer.

"Thank you all for all your...support," slithered Bhelen as he eyed each and every supporter of Harrowmont amongst the noble crowds. The Assembly had been split evenly, so he had many people to turn his gaze upon. At last his eyes fell upon Harrowmont as he gave his former opponent one final grin. Bhelen turned this grin to the Assembly. His eyes narrowed as his tone lightened. "I promise you all, my rule as king shall drag Orzammar into the modern age, and bring to us dwarves a new prosperity the likes of which we have never seen!" The now king raised his arms and gave a hearty with a glowing smile. "So as my first order as king, to clear the path for future reforms, I order the usurper and his house wiped from Orzammar!"

Aedan's eyes widened and he whipped his gaze at Bhelen. All those in the crowd who had supported Harrowmont fell deadly silent. The guards immediately surrounded the unarmed Harrowmont and drew their swords. Harrowmont shook as the tips' of the swords neared his neck.

The guardsmen saluted Bhelen, albeit reluctantly."Then we shall take this man into cust-"

Bhelen cocked his head to the side. "I don't believe you heard me correctly, guardsman. When your king orders you to do something, you do it. Immediately." Bhelen turned back to the Assembly, his arms outstretched. "The traitor dies here and now!"

Aedan stormed towards the direction of Bhelen, his teeth clenched in anger."Hold on! I didn't give you this crown to be a tyrant!" Before he could take another step, Bhelen pointed at the Warden. All the guardsmen in the chamber lept forward and brandished their swords at Aedan, yet hesitated before drawing near. One inched forward with quivering steps, but another pulled him backwards, shaking his head in fear.

Bhelen approached Aedan, his brow furrowed and his gaze cold. "You gave me this crown to change things. Progress is paved with sacrifice. I cannot afford to have the usurper live."

"You don't have to kill him!" seethed Aedan through clenched teeth.

Bhelen adjusted the crown upon his head and smiled at Aedan. "If it was just about killing him, Warden, then it it would be personal. But since I'm not just killing him, but his entire house, it's called politics." Bhelen now stood directly in front of Aedan, staring up into the Warden's furious gaze. "I have no doubt that you could kill me right now. Did you see the mess that you left at the Carta hideout? You're a real monster, you know that. Look at these guardsmen- they're scared shitless of you," chuckled Bhelen, pointing at one trembling guardsmen in particular. "But you've already said that Caridin gave me this crown; you can't take back your words."

Bhelen tugged down on Aedan's collar and brought him down to his eye level. "Listen here, Warden," sneered Bhelen, "You run your mouth off at me and disrespect me further in front of my people, then our deal is off, treaty be damned. You of all people understand that I need to cement my rule, now more than ever, or else my reforms regarding the casteless will not pass. So feel free to try and kill me, but I know what a man like you is going to do. You are going to get up, walk out, and let me kill this man and his house, so you can get your army. Because men like us choose the greater good."

Bhelen stepped backwards with crossed arms, a smug smile across his face. Aedan hand clenched around Nan's knife at his side. The dwarven king snapped his fingers and the guards around Aedan sheathed their swords.

Aedan grimaced as he realized Bhelen had indeed outmaneuvered him: he had gotten Aedan to all his dirty work for him and put him on the throne, all by dangling the promise of more troops. The warden weighed his options. He could kill Bhelen right now, but it was almost guaranteed Aedan would not survive the onslaught of guards who would pursue him. If Aedan killed the dwarven king, no doubt the Assembly would not send troops for him. After all, who would follow the man who slew their country's king? Furthermore, without the golems, Aedan needed all the troops he could get, and that included the casteless. Even if Aedan saved Harrowmont's life, he had no guarantee the dwarf would bolster his army with more troops.

_It won't just be him though. It'll be his entire house. Bhelen is thorough like that._

Aedan stared at the ground in silence, calculating his next move. His head pounded. He ran through all the possible paths in his head, but each one ended in the same disaster. His fists clenched, Aedan turned his back on Harrowmont.

Each step towards the exit was heavy and painful, like wading through a pool of blood and daggers. As his hands wrapped around the stone handle to the outside of the chamber, Aedan gulped as he heard the roaring of Assembly members and the begging of Harrowmont.

Aedan, against his better judgement, let his gaze wander back towards Harrowmont. What would Harrowmont's expression be towards the man ho condemned him and his house to death? Hatred? Sadness? Regret? He had to know.

Just as Aedan turned around, a fleshy thud echoed through the chambers.

_Oh._

Harrowmont's bloodied head rolled on the ground, staring at him.

Aedan took one glance, then turned back around and shut the stone doors behind him. Everything felt numb as he made his way through the entrance hallway. Outside two guards stood at attention as they faced out into the Diamond Quarter. As Aedan stepped outside into the streets, he asked the guard quietly, "How many members does House Harrowmont have?"

The guard rubbed his eyes and yawned, "Several hundred strong, not including the women, children, and merchants."

"Including them?" whispered Aedan, his voice hoarse and weak.

"I'd say about five hundred. Why?" replied the guard. Once the guard said that number, Aedan's entire world began to blur. His heart clamped up as though someone were squeezing it. It thumped in his head as his eyes lost focus. His cold clammy hands felt for something, anything, to grab onto and hold him steady. Aedan staggered away from the Assembly entrance. His feet carried him forward, ignoring the dwarves that he bumped into. Aedan sat down at the nearest bench he could find.

When Branka had left, she had brought all her house's warriors, numbering about three hundred. All of them had known that they might never return. But this was different: Harrowmont's house members would likely be stormed by guards in the middle of their meals, not knowing the vengeance that Bhelen was raining down upon them. No doubt, Bhelen would kill any potential heirs Harrowmont might have. Aedan wouldn't put it past him to be so vengeful that he wish to erase the Harrowmont name from history for daring to stand against him.

_What have I done?_

The numbers worked out though. So Harrowmont's house died, but thousands more lives would be made better by Bhelen's reforms. The casteless would not die on the streets and Orzammar would not die from economic turmoil.

Or are you foolish enough to think that you can get anywhere without sacrificing something? screamed Branka from beyond the grave.

Despite that rationalization, the dead weight in Aedan's chest still lingered. What would his family say, if they had known he had caused this? That he had sacrificed children no older than Oren? He, like Howe, Branka, Zathrian, and Loghain, had just sacrificed countless innocents to achieve his goals.

Aedan buried his head in his hands.


	45. Followers

_Aedan grunted as he attempted to move his bandaged arm to grab a glass of water off his side table. Of all the injuries that had befallen him, the broken arm had not even been caused directly by Adair; when Frederic had been cutting him from the chair, Aedan had fallen over onto his own arm and twisted it the wrong way._

_Aedan mentally reminded himself never to get tortured again._

_After the incident, Frederic had alerted the nearest guardsmen, who then carried him back to the Cousland estate. Aedan's memory of that point had been hazy, as the overwhelming pain had occupied his thoughts. Several bandages and the aid of one mage later, Aedan had been confined to his room and bed, wrapped in luxurious sheets and old bandages._

_As Aedan sipped his water, he wondered where Adair had gotten off to. After that night at Frederic's house, Aedan had heard nothing from Adair. Granted, thought Aedan, the constant guardsmen by his side might explain that issue._

_The name of the village, however, did not leave Aedan's mind. Westholme. Aedan had heard a mention of it once, as it seemed they had a rather fine brewery there. Other than that though, it was an otherwise unremarkable town. One of the only other highlights is that it was a layover for merchants coming in and out of Redcliffe, as the Westholme was only a days ride from Redcliffe._

_Was the bastard there?_

_Bryce and Eleanor walked into the room as Aedan was pondering. Their entrance broke his train of thought as they had rather somber frowns. "Hey, you too look a little serious. What's up?" asked Aedan with a smile, trying to lighten the mood, but his parents still did not smile._

_"Aedan," said Bryce, "your mother and I think that it's probably for the best that we get out of Denerim for a while. Whoever this Adair is, he has it out for the Couslands."_

_"Come on Father, don't let a little torture scar-"_

_"Aedan, your mother and I were worried sick about you!" said his father, his voice raised and trembling, "The royal guard told us not to leave the premises at night until this man had been caught, and yet you did anyways. How do you think we felt when we saw them bring in you all bloodied and broken?" Eleanor Cousland squeezed her husband's arm as she thought about that night._

_Stunned at his father's tone, Aedan stuttered quietly, "Father, I didn't think-"_

_"You need to think for once!" yelled his father. Looking under at his father's face, Aedan could see the bags under his eyes."For Maker's sake, maybe you don't care what happens to yourself, or perhaps you think you can just shoulder everything, but you have a family that cares about what happen to you! Stop running off and keeping secrets!" Bryce sighed and rubbed his brow. "Grow up a little, Aedan. You're a man now."_

_Aedan watched in silence as his parents left the room. The guards fidgeted awkwardly as Aedan lay contemplating their words._

* * *

"So you're just going to let him die?"

Aedan paused before sipping on his water. He sat at the table, face forward, his gaze not meeting anyone else's. "He's already dead. The decision's been made."

Leliana stared at him with fiery eyes. She stood with hands leaning on the table before Aedan. "Aedan, what about the rest of his house? Are you just going to let them die too?"

"We need Bhelen's support. We can't oppose him on this." The water ran down Aedan's throat as he tipped the cup backwards once again. He tried to seem as calm as possible. Aedan simply sat there, sipping his water while some of the others looked incredulously at him, particularly Alistair, Leliana, and Wynne. The former assassin, Zevran, did not say anything in protest, but even he seemed to be offput by the decision, giving Aedan a single tense glare; perhaps it was the fact that children would be killed. Aedan couldn't really tell what would disgust Zevran.

It felt like forever since he had walked back into the door and told the group what had happened in the Assembly chamber. Maybe, thought Aedan, the side of his mouth twitching, it's because I've had several people berating me for quite some time.

The blood had been spilled. Harrowmont was dead. The papers had confirmed the deaths of at least a hundred more members of his house. Bhelen's guards had stormed the Harrowmont estate by surprise and slaughtered them all. Many more had fled once the news had broke out. No doubt Bhelen would send assassins after them to kill any seeds of uprising. Aedan could no longer take back his decision. He would try his best to live with it and all the consequences.

Infuriated by the apathetic look on Aedan's face, Leliana threw her hands into the air, finally relenting. She stormed off into the next room. Alistair, however, would not stop his barrage of criticism. "Aedan, we have to go and help out the rest of them, or do something!" iterated Alistair for what seemed like the eleventh time.

"I told you, Alistair, it's out of our hands. Those who could escape have done so, and we wouldn't be able to find them anyways."

"You're not even trying to help them!" The templar slammed his hands down on the table. "You're just sitting here like nothing's wrong!"

"I never said I enjoyed making the decision, but it was best choice at the time."

"The best choice is sacrificing innocents? Do you hear yourself?" asked Alistair incredulously. He shook his head at Aedan's words. "You know who also sacrificed innocents, Aedan?  _Loghain_ , and he's the one we're supposed to be defeating, not becoming."

Aedan took a deep breath to hold in his anger. He was already mentally beating himself up for his decision. He didn't need others to do it outside his mind. "We're supposed to be stopping the Blight, and that's why I made that decision. We need the dwarven army, and this was the only way to get it." He paused and gave a cold, steely look at Alistair. "We're Grey Wardens, that's what we do."

The templar jutted his finger out at Aedan. "Being Grey Wardens doesn't give us an excuse to be monsters-"

The clay cup cracked between Aedan's grip. "You think it's so easy, Alistair, why don't you try making the hard decisions for once, instead of lazing around and handing it off to me? How about you do the goddamn job that was supposed to be yours?" snapped Aedan, his voice echoing in the room. It took him a second to process what he had just said. He looked at the awkward expressions on the other companions faces.

Alistair stared at his fellow Warden, his mouth slightly open in shock. "Fuck you," spat Alistair before storming out of the room. Aedan cringed and rubbed his brow with his hand. One by one all of his companions left the room in silence, save Morrigan. The witch lingered behind him in silence as Aedan let his forehead sit against the edge of his cup.

"The templar will get over it," stated Morrigan, shaking her head a bit.

Aedan rubbed his temples. "He has a right to be angry. I made it personal when we were just arguing over the validity of a decision." In politics, such a slip up could mean the entire collapse of an important deal: his father had taught him that. As a Cousland, he had been taught poise and courtesy, yet Aedan had let his emotions get the better of him. More importantly, Alistair was his friend- perhaps one of the closest he had ever had. He didn't deserve what Aedan had said to him.

"You made the best decision you could. Twas the right call. We need the dwarven army." Morrigan's hand hovered over Aedan's shoulder, hesitating, before resting upon it.

Aedan didn't look up at her, but the grip on his cup loosened. "Thank you."

Her words made Aedan feel a little better, but words were not enough to ease his guilt. The witch remained for a few more seconds, her hand on his shoulder, before quietly leaving along with the rest. Now alone in the room, all Aedan had to keep him company were his thoughts. Seeing as how that was the last company he'd like to keep, Aedan muttered to himself, "I need a drink," put on his jacket, and headed out towards the bar. He didn't care to inform anyone where he was going. He didn't want to talk. He just wanted to dull the thinking in his head, the constant crunching of numbers in his head.

* * *

"Barkeep. Scotch," grumbled Aedan as he slouched over the bar counter. Aedan nursed yet another scotch as he stared down into the bottom of golden-brown liquid. He hadn't kept count of how much he'd had yet. Realizing he still hadn't paid the bartender yet, Aedan rummaged around in his knapsack for some dwarven coins. After a minute of searching to no avail, Aedan simply grabbed a fistful of whatever was in his bag and emptied it onto the table. A vial from the pile rolled precariously towards the edge of the table. Aedan snatched the moving vial into his hand before realizing what it was: Avernus's mixture, an experiment fueled by hundreds of years of torture and death, had almost rolled off the side of the table in a bar.

The warden knew how irresponsible to simply keep the vial in his bag. What if it broke? Then truly the countless human sacrifices used to perfect the experiment would go to waste. Aedan was not in a position where he could afford himself even the smallest irresponsibilities. He could no longer afford to make mistakes. Aedan sighed and downed the rest of his glass. Lives hinged on every one of his decisions.

Aedan's thumb rubbed the cork bottling the vial. His fingernail dragged against the glass as Aedan contemplated. Certainly, it was wrong for Avernus to run the experiments in the first place, but the past was the past. Just like how he could no longer change his decision regarding Bhelen and Harrowmont, neither could Avernus regarding his experiments.

_That's what I told Alistair, right? It's not our job to protect innocents. It's to stop the Blight, no matter what._

Just as Aedan was about to uncork the vial, a familiar pungent scent struck Aedan. The Warden crinkled his nose and glanced sideways. "Oghren?" slurred Aedan, the effect of several drinks already taking effect. The dwarf's bright red hair and beard made him seem like a reddish blob to Aedan. "Thought you went home?

"That ain't my home anymore," said Oghren as he downed his ale, "Made me too unhappy; home's supposed to be a happy place."

Aedan grimaced at Oghren's words. He could certainly empathize with the dwarf. "So where you gonna live after this?"

"Actually, I was wondering if you'd be willing to let me travel with you. Figure you could use another warrior."

Aedan's drunken mind took a few seconds to process what Oghren had said. He wasn't sure if he was hearing Oghren right. "You'd...want to follow me? After what I did to your wife? After what I let Bhelen do?" The warden hiccuped and stared down into the bottom of his empty glass in dead silence. "I did the math, Oghren. In just one hour, I sentenced more people to death than Branka did in two years."

Oghren waved over at the bartender, pointing at both him and Aedan. Two glasses slid over to the two. He offered one to Aedan and took the other for himself. "I'm not going to tell you you're better than Branka...both of you have had to sacrifice people. The difference is, Branka kept it together. Calm as a fiddle- but you care, Warden. All those lives you sacrificed? They mean something to you, and that's why you're here drowning away your sorrows."

Oghren clinked his glass against Aedan's. "That's the kind of man I want to follow. The one who knows how valuable the things he's sacrificing are."

* * *

Several weeks after leaving Orzammar, Morrigan and Aedan sat together inside of her tent. Morrigan had insisted that she check up on Aedan's wounds since the Anvil, seeing as how he had been stabbed in his sword-wielding hand. The dagger had left a large scar on both sides of his right hand, and still hurt a bit whenever Aedan gripped down on his sword hilt. The few hours between him getting the wound and receiving medical attention had certainly hampered his recovery process.

"Your grip is not shaky?" Morrigan cradled Aedan's right hand while with her spare hand she pressed her fingers methodically against the scar. She pressed deeper on a pressure point on his palm and watched as Aedan's finger twitched a little; a good sign that all was well.

"A little painful, but I can hold my sword fine."

Morrigan motioned for Aedan to turn around. "Time for your back."

Morrigan traced her finger down one particularly unattractive scar that ran his back; one of many. "When Mother brought you inside my hut, you did not have nearly as many scars," mused Morrigan. Indeed, the Warden had acquired many more scars since then. The werewolf bites had never fully healed, leaving deep red gashes in his back. He had a patch of burn scars from fighting abominations. Numerous sword gashes and dagger blows had left marks all over his body. Morrigan and Wynne's magic, although extensive, could not completely prevent scars, unlike Flemeth.

When Morrigan had first met Aedan, she thought him reckless. He often taunted enemies into attacking him instead of others. In terms of pure offensive power, there was no doubt that others like Sten and Shale killed more than him during battle. It didn't make sense that he'd attract so many enemies to him despite not being able to kill them all. Yet as time went one, Morrigan saw what Aedan was doing, even if he himself didn't realize it. By attracting the enemies to him, his teammates could concentrate solely on offense. Of course, thought Morrigan, that strategy probably wasn't why he did it. Morrigan did not know much about him; she knew only as far back as the scars on his back, but at the very least she knew that Aedan didn't want to see his comrades hurt.

Why was it he did the things he did? Morrigan felt a hunger to learn more about him. She liked those little moments where she learnt new things about him. One time, Aedan had accidentally let slip he had saved a king from an assassin. Everytime she uncovered a piece of his past, Morrigan felt as though the picture became clearer, but he still seemed distant and out of reach: not that she was any different.

It seemed strange, the juxtaposition of their situations. His intentions were an open book; it was clear what Aedan was fighting for, yet his past remained a mystery to all his companions. It was as though the tale of the Warden had simply started that night at Ostagar. In comparison, Morrigan bared the earlier tales of her life to Aedan: her adventures while shapeshifted, her first forays into civilization, and her lessons from her mother. Yet she had still not told him why she was truly here, and would not until the right time.

Morrigan glanced over and wondered if Aedan ever felt the same- if he ever smiled quietly when he heard the stories of her past. Her glance fell upon her knapsack. Should she give her item to him? Now was as good a time as ever. As she opened her mouth to speak, her throat went dry and the words would not leave.

"Thought you said scars add character." Aedan stretched his arms out and groaned as he pulled a previously injured muscle.

The thought of her gift moved to the back of her mind as Morrigan continued her conversation. "Up until a certain point, at which point it becomes somewhat unattractive, so stop getting them." Morrigan flicked Aedan in the back of the head, then handed him his shirt.

"Sorry," laughed Aedan as he put his shirt back on. He groaned whilst one of his arms stretched in the wrong way, aggravating another one of his injuries from fighting with Branka. "The damn thing still hurts," he muttered.

Morrigan chided him and helped him pull the shirt over his head. "Your injuries seem to be healing fine, save for that one with your arm. Just stretch it every once in awhile."

"Morrigan, I need to talk to you about someth-"

"I have something for you," blurted out the witch. She knew that she was interrupting him, but she hated the anxious feeling in her chest, waiting for the right moment to give her gift. It was best she get it over with now, lest she think about it anymore. She kept going over his reaction in her head, even though she knew speculating was pointless.

"Not more of that godawful medicinal herbs, I hate those-"

"It is not that." The witch fumbled around in her belongings and stretched her hand out in front of Aedan. In the palm of her hand lay a simple ring of rosewood.

"That's...sweet," smiled Aedan as he picked it up. He brushed the smooth wood with his fingers and slid the ring down his left ring finger.

"Not sweet, practical. Tis not a sentimental thing, tis something of necessity. It has come to my attention that you sometimes tend to wander off and find yourself in trouble."

"You make it sound like I'm some sort of dog," joked Aedan.

Morrigan groaned at Aedan's quip and continued on. "This ring was given to me by Flemeth and imbued with magic to allow for her to track me. I have modified to the magic to work instead on you instead. It should allow me to sense when you are in trouble and where you are."

"Interesting." Aedan fiddled with the ring on the finger. For some reason, he found it calming to twist it about it. "So...if you can sense me through this, can I sense you?"

Morrigan paused, and then answered, "I did not think of it like that, but I suppose that it could work both ways."

Aedan took one final look at the ring upon his finger and smiled. "I appreciate the gift, Morrigan. It's very nice."

"Tis not meant to be sentimental," growled Morrigan again, right after which Aedan laughed. The man wrapped his arm around her shoulder and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"That's all I get?" mumbled Morrigan, leaning her head against Aedan's neck. The man's heart skipped a beat as he leaned in to kiss Morrigan on the lips. His hand cupped her porcelain neck as he pulled her closer. He could feel her hot, quickening breath between her kisses. Aedan grabbed her by the waist, pulled her close to his own body, then pushed himself down atop of her. As she wrapped her arms around Aedan's neck, Morrigan whispered seductively in his ear. "I think we can probably save what you were going to talk about for later. Much later."

Aedan's heart dropped as he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Morrigan expectantly grinded her hips against Aedan's, but was surprised to find that Aedan was not responding. "Is...something wrong?" she panted.

Pushing himself off of Morrigan, Aedan groaned and whispered, "I was going to talk to you about your mother."

"Ah," said Morrigan, before falling silent. "Nothing kills the mood better than matricide," she muttered under her breath. The woman sighed as she did her hair up again. "Sorry I brought that up."

"It's fine. We need to talk about it anyways." Aedan rubbed the back of his head and awkwardly waited for the lower half of his body to calm down. After a minute of silence, Aedan finally said, "We've been heading south, and we'll arrive outside the Wilds tomorrow. If I remember right, it's only a few hours from to your mother's hut from there if we take the shortest path."

* * *

Truth be told, ever since his argument with Alistair and the others, things had not quite been the same. Certainly, it was not as though they were still mad at him. Even they had to understand the decision he made, but things were different now. He and Alistair used to joke all the time. Now it felt as though they were simply business partners- nothing more. Alistair sat across from Aedan, simply sipping his soup in silence. After the templar had finished his meal, he piled the plate onto the designated dish towel and got up to leave.

"I need to talk to the entire group about something. Stay." Aedan turned to the rest and addressed them: "All of you."

"Is this about our current path south? We're not going back to Ostagar, are we? The deep south of Ferelden is crawling with darkspawn," said Zevran.

Wringing his hands, Aedan took a moment to consider how best to phrase what he was about to say. However, there was no better way to ease them into the business of Flemeth, so he figured he might as well just say it outright. "We're going to kill Morrigan's mother, Flemeth. She plans to possess Morrigan's body after the Blight is over. If we're to keep this from happening, we need to eliminate Flemeth. Wynne and Morrigan will need to stay behind, seeing as how they are both female mages."

Everyone paused and contemplated in silence. Aedan shifted a bit in his seat. The man was anxious to hear the response of the others; hopefully it would not take long for them to get ready. He wanted to be off as soon as possible.

"How'd you figure this out?" asked Alistair, throwing a furtive glance in the direction of Morrigan's tent.

"Morrigan translated one of her mother's grimoires we found in the Tower of Magi," replied Aedan.

"So Morrigan told you," said Alistair. He frowned, leaned forward on his knees, and asked, "Aedan, how do we know Morrigan isn't just...getting her mother out of the way?"

"What?" stated Aedan, his face scrunching in disbelief.

"For one, she's an apostate, and a very dangerous one at that," said Leliana,"We don't even know why she's travelling with us."

"To stop the blight?" said Aedan, his voice raising, "To save this country from being overrun?"

"We're just saying," said Leliana, avoiding Aedan's gaze, "maybe you're not the best one to judge this situation, since you two are...intimate."

Aedan gave an exasperated scowl. "This and that are two different things. I don't let what we do at night interfere with my work in the day."

"That's not realistic," said Wynne, "Of course she's going to have some influence over you, some sort of pull."

"Are you being serious right now?" Aedan looked at each and everyone of his companions. Each one of them had a similar frown, as though Morrigan's lie were obvious. Did they truly not believe him?

Only Oghren lacked the disbelief of the others, and raised his eyebrows at the rest. "I don't know too much about this Morrigan, but hey, I doubt she's just going to have us kill some old woman on a whim in the middle of a Blight unless it's important. Let's get it over with and kill the bitch," shrugged Oghren.

"Thank you." Aedan threw his arms in the air. "Finally someone."

Sten shook his head. "Warden, we have to consider this carefully. Flemeth is a powerful witch who possibly has been around for centuries. Even if Morrigan's telling the truth, is it really wise to go rushing in to kill her mother? Our goal is the Archdemon. You are a soldier first. Put aside your personal feelings and continue on with your job properly, Warden."

Aedan grimaced at Sten's words, especially the last one. Warden. That was he was now, right? The Warden. None of the others referred to Alistair as "warden", and it wasn't out of disrespect. Aedan had thrown himself into this job, from leadership on the battlefield, managing the base in Soldier's Keep, and making all the important decisions. It had been easier to throw himself into the job. After all, everything that he had left behind had burned to nothing. This job was his life now.

Of course, the job required cynical thinking at times. The warden had considered that Morrigan might be lying. After all, her early advances had still gone unexplained. Even if she wasn't lying, the battle with Flemeth was an unknown; they had no idea the power the woman possessed. For all they knew, the witch could kill them all with a wave of her hand. Above all the prority was staying alive until they reached the Archdemon.

Aedan had seen the devastation of the Blight as they had passed through southern Fereldan. Mangled, half-eaten corpses strewn the corrupted lands. Crows circled the entirety of the skies as the chants and shrieks of darkspawn filled the air. At least in war, there was the possibility of mercy, but Aedan had seen what the darkspawn had done in the Deep Roads. A civilization obliterated. Ferelden, if not united, stood no chance. So it all fell on Aedan's shoulders. None of Ferelden's leaders had shown they would be able to coordinate the country against the Blight. Aedan needed to be better them all: better than Zathrian, better than Branka, better than Bhelen, better than Cailan, and most of all better than Loghain.

Would killing Flemeth make him a better leader than the others?

The Warden, thought Aedan, would stay. The Warden would wait until after the Blight to take care of this, after all, Flemeth would not dare to take a valuable member of his team before the final battle. The Warden would appropriately distance himself from Morrigan and figure out what her plan was. The Warden would put aside personal feelings and do what needed to be done, and ignore all other distractions. Had he not already sacrificed hundreds? Had he not already failed to save even more? What more was one life?

But even with all that the Warden's rationalizations, Aedan still felt a twinge in his chest. He didn't want to lose her.

Aedan Cousland instead spoke to the unmoving group: "Listen here. Regardless of my relationship with her, regardless of what you might think of her, I know this. Morrigan has time after time fought by our side. She's protected us from man and monster alike. She's mended our worst wounds. No doubt she has saved each and everyone of us in some way. You owe that to her.

"And if anyone of you came to me with similar request, I wouldn't ask questions, because each and everyone of you have fought with and defended me. So if you won't do it for her, at the very least, do it for me."

Aedan clenched his fist and slammed it down against his chest. "I am your leader. I would do anything for you. I would fight for you. I would die for you." He gritted his teeth as he exhaled slowly, "And I would kill for you."

His warm breath lingered in the chilled air. As the breath faded, only silence remained amongst his companions as they considered his words. Aedan heard a low rumble: Shale stomped over slowly in the general direction of south. Alistair wrung his hands, made a sour face, and finally picked up his sword. The rest began to follow one by one, until finally all his companions had armed themselves. Aedan nodded silently and began to make his own preparations- arming himself with everything he had: sword, bombs, healing potions, daggers, and more.

After he had finished, Aedan walked over to Morrigan's tent area. The witch sat by her fire reading one of her books. Only her back faced Aedan. Despite Aedan standing behind her, the witch refused to look up.

"Not even going to say goodbye to me?" asked Aedan, watching her hair sway in the wind. The witch shivered in place as a strong breeze blew past them.

"You'll just be gone for a few hours. I'm making soup tonight. Don't take too long or it'll go cold," said Morrigan, not turning around to show her face.

Aedan smiled. "Looking forward to it." With that, Aedan turned around and joined his comrades at the edge of the forest. The twisted trees and swamp-like lands greeted them as they began to trek inward. He remembered the first time he had navigated through the vast forests and swamps of this area. It had been a some time since he had entered these woods, almost a year, though it felt longer.

As they walked through the swamps, Aedan turned towards Shale. "Thank you."

"For what?" replied the golem.

"For being the first to come. I didn't think you liked me that much."

"To be quite honest, I don't," stated the golem rather distastefully. Aedan made a puzzled expression as the golem explained. "It eats too loudly. It tells jokes that fall flat. It's always getting in other's business when it has no reason to do so. It fornicates with the witch far too often and loudly, often to the discomfort of others. It also-"

"I get it, Shale." Aedan held up his hand. "I'll leave you alone."

"But it is the first person to respect me," continued Shale, "not as a golem, but as a living being. So similarly, I shall respect it. If it asked-"

The golem paused, and then made a strange noise similar to clearing her throat. Technically Shale no longer had any such throat to to clear, but perhaps it was out of instinct from memories long ago.

"If you asked," she stated, "I would follow you anywhere."


	46. Desperation

_When Aedan made a mistake, his father was not a man to punish, but to teach. Even though the patriarch of the Cousland family believed that Aedan had been irresponsible as of late, Bryce believed caging his son would only breed resentment, not reflection. After a week of recuperating, his parents had given Aedan some slack and allowed him to go out during the day. To be considerate, Aedan kept his walks to half hour lengths. Aedan waddled through the market with a slight limp._

_For the past few days, Aedan had gone outside at noon, walked the exact same path for a half hour, then returned into the mansion. If Adair was still out there, he had to have noticed this pattern by now. Still, Aedan had not seen Adair for a week, and wondered where the man had gone off._

_As if right on queue, Aedan saw a familiar face dart backwards behind him. From amidst the crowds of merchants and nobles, a hooded figure quickly pulled him aside. "Was wondering when you'd show up again," said Aedan. Adair took a quick look around the corner of the alleyway. With all the people in the market, the chances of Adair being singled out by the guards was low. The grizzled man grunted, "Let's make this quick."_

_Adair sprinted silently down the abandoned hallway. Aedan groaned and motioned for him to slow down. "My ankle's sprained because of you, asshole."_

_"You're the one who came up with the idea of getting tortured- don't go complaining to me."_

_Aedan rolled his eyes and tried to keep up with the older warrior. Adair turned the corner several times until they reached the slums. Aedan had never found a reason to come down to the slums of Denerim usually. Clotheslines hung across the span of buildings from apartment window to apartment window. Dirty, ragged clothing fluttered in the wind and dripped cloudy water as they dried. Garbage lined the unpaved streets. Aedan felt out of place in his nice shirt and clean pants. The young noble tried his best to stay in the shadows and avoid glances from the slum dwellers. Adair pulled open a nearby door and beckoned Aedan inside._

_"My hideout." Adair gave a quick wave at everything in the room before heading to his knapsack. Adair began stuffing everything he could fit into his bag: bombs, maps, and more. For some reason, it seemed as though the older warrior was in some sort of rush. Aedan surveyed the decrepit old room around him. Various maps lined the walls, with strings of yarn connecting pins on the maps. The place was filled to the brim with weapons and explosives. Aedan recognized some of the bombs that Adair had used in the Alienage: he wondered how the authorities hadn't found this place with such highly dangerous qunari explosives._

_"How do you throw these damn things?" asked Aedan. He picked up one of the round vials and gently tossed it in his hands. "Back at the Bann's mansion a few months ago, I made some decent throws at his soldiers with the alcohol bottles, but I missed my mark on quite a few."_

_"Thought you were more of a sword and shield person," stated Adair._

_"Doesn't mean I can't carry a couple of these around with me," replied Aedan._

_Adair rolled his eyes. "See, your problem is that you're handling the damn thing like a sword, when throwing is a more delicate art. You need a minimal amount of force to break these things. Your desire is accuracy." The veteran interrupted his packing to go into his throwing position, and beckoned at Aedan to do the same. The young noble followed suit and followed Adair's instructions._

_"Start out with your weight on your back right foot. Raise your arm up in a L shape. Hips should slightly bent to the you throw, you should feel the torque as you rotate your entire body, starting from your legs, driving with your hip rotation, and finally. It's one fluid movement, all towards directing the path of the bomb straight at your target. As you release, don't forget to follow through. That's the general gist of it." Adair simulated his throw, and quickly observed Aedan as he did the same. After a quick glance at Aedan's form, Adair resumed his packing in a hurry._

_"What's the hurry?" asked Aedan as Adair continued to arm himself up._

_"There's one last job for each of us. You need to go the village of Westholme. Find where the bastard is and get him to relocate and get under protection." Adair strapped himself into his dark leather armor, patted himself down once, and slung his bag over his shoulder._

_"You're not coming?" asked Aedan, even though Adair's behavior had already suggested it._

_"This is where we part ways. There are people who hired me...I intend to track them down. They've sent the Orlesians after me and you, so they'll know by now I'm still alive and betrayed them. Best case, I find them and kill them."_

_Aedan paused before asking, "And in the worst case?"_

_The veteran stared at him with cold eyes. "I die, and they believe that the bastard's location died with me."_

_"So what? You're just going to get yourself killed?"_

_A tired look in his eyes, Adair spoke slowly and quietly in a manner unbefitting his brash exterior:"I... have lived too long, Aedan. I have done many things I'm not proud of. If this is my end, then I'm not going to say I don't want it. It is a good end, for a good cause."_

_As Adair made his way to the door, he stopped midstep and turned around back to Aedan. "A word of advice," he said,"Do not be so eager to be a hero...to fight villains and defend innocents. While people like Teharel and I carry heavy sins, you don't. You have a family and people who love you. I...never had that. The thing that kept me going when I was working with Teharel and the others, the thing that allowed me to do all those terrible things, was the fact that perhaps I was making a world where people like you could live in peace and enjoy their lives."_

_With deep regret in his eyes, Adair stared down at the floor and said, "If you were to grant a dead man's final request, here it is: finish this business in Westholme, and then stop and enjoy the rest of your life."_

_Aedan and Adair stood there in silence, with Adair standing in the open doorway. After some time, Aedan managed to get out, "Then I guess this is-."_

_His final word trailed off his word 'goodbye' was quite foreign to Aedan. He was still young; he had never yet said goodbye for good. Each person he saw in his life would always be there the next day. Slowly that would change though. His parents would get older and eventually die of old age, as would the rest of his family. And even though Aedan didn't like to think about it, Teharel had only a few months left. Even though the man before him was partially responsible for it, Aedan felt torn. This man was trying to do good. Adair had tripped. Adair had fallen. But he was trying._

_Aedan clenched his fist gently and nodded once at Adair in silence. The grizzled old veteran did the same as well, before shutting the door._

* * *

Morrigan bit her lip.

Of all the people she had to be stuck alone with, it was Wynne. Morrigan scowled as sat across from the other mage. At least with Alistair, you could make enough jokes at the expense of his pride and the templar would slink away. Leliana would simply pout and stay silent.

For safety's sake, Aedan and the others had left Wynne behind; even though Flemeth had been grooming Morrigan to be her next vessel, the possibility existed that Flemeth might jump to Wynne if the situation got too dire. Then the moral conundrum of the day would no longer be killing an old woman, and instead whether or not killing an old woman who was also their comrade.

The campfire separated the two as Wynne thumbed through a book. The old woman had a habit of licking the tip of her thumb then turning the page; no doubt since all the natural oils in her skin had dried up. Morrigan gagged and dreaded the possibility she might become like that.

"So, I noticed you and Aedan have been quite close as of late," said Wynne, breaking the silence. Morrigan contemplated simply not responding. To enter into a conversation with Wynne meant bothersome preaching from a woman she had little respect for.

Still, the topic of her and Aedan piqued Morrigan's interest. The other companions had expressed nothing but disgust or awkwardness at their arrangement. Perhaps the shackled Circle mage had some other opinion.

"Have we not been berated enough about this?" drawled Morrigan, "Yes, we are grown adults having sex. How interesting."

Wynne smirked. "Not what I meant." The elderly mage smiled like a devious cat and observed Morrigan intensely. Morrigan tried her best to keep on a straight face. She narrowed her eyes and glared. She didn't like where this conversation was going. Wynne's happiness did not warrant a cause for celebration for Morrigan.

"I see the way you look at him when he's not with you. The way you smile when he's not looking." Wynne tilted her head to the side with the smuggest grin.

Morrigan scowled and suppressed the urge to sear the other mage. "You must be going senile, old hag."

Despite Morrigan's vitriolic words, Wynne still maintained that infuriating smirk. "There's only so many times you can shoot your sharp words before we get used to them."

Ignoring Wynne's previous comment, Morrigan said, "Tis not the frilly little love you people dream of. Tis the respect of equals. We are both powerful, independent individuals. Is there nothing wrong with indulging in carnal pleasure?" Morrigan crossed her arms. Such words often deterred the likes of the dull-witted templar and the frivolous sister. No doubt the Circle mage would give up at this point.

Wynne's wrinkled smile twisted into one far more sinister. "And what, may I ask, do the stolen kisses when nobody's looking have to do with the respect of equals?"

An uncontrollable cough shot out of Morrigan's throat. Startled, the witch turned her face away and muttered, "I am simply...confirming that he is more equal to me than any of you. Now enough old woman, leave me be."

That ended the conversation for awhile. The witch bit her lip. Morrigan tried her best not to think upon Wynne's comments or Aedan.

After awhile, Wynne said from behind her book,"He's going to be fine."

"I know that- why do you keep insisting on telling me that?"

"You always bit your lip and make that same expression whenever you're worried about him."

The witch blinked and was taken aback. "I did not expect such an old woman to be so shrewd," she muttered.

"Despite what you may think," said Wynne, "I did not always enjoy the Tower. I got rather good at cards to pass the time, and I know a tell when I see one." The elder mage sighed and tried her best to make a reassuring smile. As much as Wynne did not trust Morrigan, at the very least she could tell Morrigan cared about Aedan, and that was enough to make her want to comfort Morrigan. "I worry about him too, Morrigan."

"Who wouldn't, based on all the wounds he drags back in?"

"I am not so worried about that...it's his state of mind that I'm worried about. He's carrying too many things by himself; too many worries, too many regrets, too many responsibilities. If he keeps up like this, then there will come a time when the straw breaks the camel's back." The elder mage grimaced for a brief second, thinking of the possibilities. Instead of pondering on it, Wynne returned to her book and nervously tapped the book spine.

Morrigan glanced at the position of the sun. One more hour. Aedan would be back within the hour. The task shouldn't have taken much time.

_Only one more hour of this anxiety...this tightness in my chest...this overwhelming worry._

Morrigan bit her lip.

* * *

Aedan pushed his way past the sickly brown foliage of the swamp to reveal a familiar sight: Flemeth's hut. Finally, Aedan was back at the beginning. Certainly, the day they had set off from Flemeth's hut had not been the catalyst for him becoming a warden. If anything, the true beginning was that fiery day in Highever. Yet ever since the day he, Alistair, and Morrigan had set off from the hut, Aedan had carried the responsibility of the Blight.

The hut looked the same as almost a year ago: decrepit, covered in moss, and barely standing. Despite its ancient looks, Aedan suspected the building had stood for awhile. No doubt Flemeth kept the exterior shabby to throw off any possible suspicion. As Aedan surveyed the area, he noticed waiting outside the door, arms behind her back and with that same sinister smile, was Flemeth. The warden grimaced and signaled to the rest to come out of the bushes. Aedan had hoped to ambush the witch, but that had been too much to hope for.

The warden removed his helm whilst he strode forward. "Hey," greeted Aedan with his helmet tucked between the crook of his elbow. Despite Flemeth being an abomination, a murderer, and a threat to Morrigan's life, Aedan felt a certain ease when greeting her. She took everything seriously, and at the same time did not. At the very least, the two shared a sense of humor. Aedan wondered if sharing a sense of humor with a sinister abomination reflected poorly on him..

"I did not expect to see you again, at the very least not until the blight is over. Slacking off on the job are we, tsk tsk," chided Flemeth jokingly. She bobbed her head from side to side, playing the senile old woman.

"Ah well, just have something I have to take care of quick," said Aedan, smiling back at her. The two stared at each other with warm smiles and ice cold glares.

Finally Flemeth spat out, "So little Morrigan finally found someone to dance to her tune." Something invisible pulsated once behind Flemeth. The air constricted behind her and a familiar shiver ran through Aedan's bones. "Tell me..do you know why I sent her with you? Do you know why she still remains with you?"

"Because the Blight will kill her and you."

"Wrong!" Flemeth cackled. "I could simply flee. I have lived through countless wars and even Blights, and I did not perish. Guess again."

Aedan narrowed his eyes. "It's easier for you to take over an accomplished mage," he suggested.

Flemeth laughed again. "You are certainly not wrong about that fact, but that was never in my mind. Why risk my soon to be vessel fighting darkspawn? Unless something far more important took precedence?"

Flemeth smiled knowingly. A chill creeped down Aedan's spine. "Of course she hasn't told you- like mother, like daughter," slithered the aging witch, "We are the keeper of the dark secrets, preservers of the old traditions. Men like you could never understand my true purpose, my grand plan." Flemeth outstretched her arms and looked into the vast sky. Her smile twisted and contorted. Aedan regarded Flemeth in silence.

"Will you answer me one question...are you planning on taking her body?" he stated coldly.

"In a sense, yes. Tis not something someone like you would understand," replied Flemeth, bemused by Aedan's serious expression and tone.

Aedan put his hand on his sword hilt. "Then that's all I need to know."

"You don't need to kill me you know. You still want her around? Fine. Take my grimoire and give it to her. Tell her I am dead."

"I wouldn't do that to Morrigan."

Flemeth smiled once last time and sighed. "I really did like you. Such a pity."Aedan saw Flemeth engulfed by a familiar flash of light, the same which engulfed Morrigan whenever she shapeshifted. Morrigan had mentioned that she needed to study the creature in-depth to shapeshift into it. Aedan wracked his brain for the most dangerous creature that lay within the Wilds. Gigantic spider? Darkspawn?

He had barely a second to think before a hot blaze of energy blew him and the others onto their backs. The brilliant light temporarily dazed all of them, even Shale. Aedan's mind reeled; it seemed that unlike Morrigan's transformation, Flemeth's had more of a kick to it. Aedan looked towards where Flemeth had once been. Scaly wings had sprouted into the sky from a behemoth of a body. The creature's scarlet armored scales reflected the hazy sun of the Wild's. Aedan could feel the air rumble as Flemeth's gigantic tail swung back and forth. Pure smoldering fire gathered at the base of her fang filled mouth.

It took Aedan a second to process the monstrosity in front of him. Straight from the stories from his childhood, roaring with all her might, stood a dragon. Unlike his childhood, Aedan held no wonder for the deadly beast, but instead his heart pounded against his chest. His body trembled.

"BEHIND ME, NOW!" screamed Aedan till his throat hurt, a flicker of flame in Flemeth's mouth. A fireball barreled forth. Aedan raised his shield in front of him while his companions either lept out of the way or behind him. Flame blasted against the front of his shield, diverting the blast from a cone shaped area. The skin beneath his gauntlets felt like bubbling from the scalding heat. Although Morrigan had warded his shield to protect from elemental magic, it did not protect from heat. Aedan gritted his teeth through the intense heat running through his left hand's gauntlet.

Despite the searing pain from his quivering left hand, Aedan clenched his shield and continued to hold it up. As the fire cleared, Aedan could smell the sickening burnt smell of his own skin. He struggled to even clasp his shield. His hand felt raw and wet. Every part of his body begged him to drop the shield. Still Aedan held it up in front of him; the rest of his companions save Alistair had no such magical wards. With a wave of his hand, Aedan silently signaled Alistair to circled round back Flemeth with several others. While they flanked Flemeth, Aedan charged along with Shale and Oghren straight at Flemeth. Shale pounded her both her fists straight into Flemeth's face. Aedan and Oghren burst from behind the golem and unleashed a barrage of devastating blows.

Aedan prayed that Flemeth would keep her attention on him so the others could do their work. Zevran was crawling under the belly of the beast to strap vials of frost bombs; once Flemeth noticed what he was doing, Zevran would no longer have such an option, so the plan was to strap everything at once, then shatter all the vials in one go. Before Zevran could finish his task however, Flemeth merely soared up into the air and circled around the group, annoyed by the scratches dealt to her.

"What now?" panted Alistair, exhausted from dodging the legs and tail of Flemeth.

"I don't know! I've never killed a goddamn dragon, and I can't fly!" Aedan's eyes followed Flemeth's circling form as he racked his mind for a strategy. Only Leliana could attack Flemeth now, and as accurate as the bard was, her arrows merely bounced off the dragon's scales.

A dark realization dawned on Aedan, as he looked at his group who was clustered in one single area. Just as his mouth opened to command them to scatter, Flemeth's wings propelled her downwards in a single flap. Her body slammed into the ground like a gigantic ballista bolt. Rubble and dirt flew everywhere as several of his teammates flew several feet. Flemeth raised her head and shrieked into the sky. Her roar rattled Aedan's head, and the Warden stumbled as he got back up.

Aedan and Sten lept at Flemeth's legs and hacked at her soft spots. Despite the metallic look of the dragon scales, enough blunt force seemed to break them. Shattered scales rained down as the melee members of Aedan's group all rushed at Flemeth. In the fervor of battle, Flemeth uprooted a nearby boulder with her tail and flung it straight at Leliana. Sten, the closest, reacted quickly enough to see the trajectory of the boulder. The qunari barreled into Leliana and knocked her clear, however Sten himself was not as lucky. The boulder collided with his body and pinned him beneath it. The qunari roared in agony and effort as he tried to push the gigantic rock off of him. Shale attempted to rush over to him, but Flemeth saw what the golem was trying to do, and took off into the air. It circled around, then rammed straight into the golem, sending it flying into the murky swamp nearby. Shale struggled beneath the noxious, thick swamp water as her own titanic weight dragged her down towards the bottom of the lake.

The dragon slammed down before her melee attackers, who barely managed to get out of her path. With a quick swipe, Flemeth batted aside Oghren and Zevran. Her neck snapped outwards at Alistair, who found himself hanging upside down by his leg. He screamed as Flemeth's teeth dug into his calf. Flemeth flung him into the direction of the Wilds, but not before releasing her grip on his leg.

She's playing with us. She's not even trying to kill us, thought Aedan. Flemeth could have easily snapped off Alistair's leg. No doubt she could have killed him with a direct impact from the air by now.

 _Why do you persist? You know you cannot win. Half of your team is out of commission. You're only human. Come now_ , cooed Flemeth in Aedan's mind through her magic. The dragon's nose puffed out a pretentious cloud of smoke as it pridefully stood over Aedan. With all the strength he could muster, Aedan smashed his shield against Flemeth's nose and struck at her mouth. Thick, dark, scarlet dragon blood oozed from the scratch he left. Despite all the force Aedan put into the blow, the dragon merely growled and swatted at Aedan. The Warden raised his shield to block the blow. He dug his feet deep into the dirt as he willed his legs to push forward against Flemeth's mighty blow. As her claw collided with him, Aedan's footing slipped and his torso absorbed the brunt of the blow. His ribs made a sickening crunch as Aedan flew through the air and tumbled against the ground.

Aedan struggled to push himself back up, but slipped in the mud. His innards throbbed in pain whilst the warden still reeled. Flemeth cackled at Aedan's futile struggle to simply get up.  _Do you think yourself some sort of hero? Saving the damsel in distress like some white shining knight?_  sneered Flemeth.  _Go back to your Grey Warden duties. Is that not what you are fighting for?_

Perhaps it was the blood loss, or perhaps the head trauma, but despite the searing pain from his burnt hands, despite his broken ribs, one thing was very clear in his mind. Even though she was miles away, Aedan could still see the smile that Morrigan tried so hard to hide. For that, Aedan would pay any price to see her one more time.

Aedan fumbled for several of the bombs he had brought, then threw them down to the ground. Smoke billowed out from all of the containers.  _Poison? Do you think this will really affect me?_  cackled Flemeth's voice in their minds. The dragon roared in delight and slammed her claws into the ground. The dirt rumbled and the trees shook from the sheer force. Aedan stood steadfast and stared straight at the large, unforgiving dragon before him. Aedan pulled out Avernus's vial and snapped the cork right off. With a single swig Aedan gulped down the entirety of the mixture. "Don't make me laugh, Flemeth," growled Aedan as he wiped the side of his mouth with his bloodied armor. Aedan's figure stumbled and writhed about in the smoke, struggling with something.

"I'm not here because I have to be," seethed Aedan though the immense pain that had erupted throughout his body, "I'm not here because I should be. I'm not here because I need to be." Every part of him; his skin, his veins, his organs, felt like they were being ripped apart then sewn back together. The taint within his blood erupted with heat as it poured through every vestige of his body. As his tainted blood surged through his body and the air, Aedan did not think of the countless lives in danger of the Blight. He did not think of all the people who he'd lost. He did not think of all those who had wronged him and deserved justice. For once, his mind was clear. His grip did not waver. Only the thought of Morrigan let Aedan endure the agonizing pain that now befell him.

"I'm here because I want to be. And right now…"

A metallic smell filled the air. A faint mist of wet blood rushed out from within the smoke and subtly tinted the surrounding air red. Blood dribbled down the cracks in Aedan's armor as the man bled profusely from his wounds. His helm clattered to the side. As the pain subsided, Aedan gritted his teeth and smiled as he laughed, "I just really...really...want to kill you."

Aedan lurched forward. The wind howled against his ears as he throttled towards Flemeth. His body felt heavier, yet burned with a unholy fire within, like a hot lump of iron had lodged itself in his bones. He could feel the heat travel through his muscles as he stamped his feet against the ground. The heat traveled through his thighs, then down his calves, then ended at his feet, where he exploded off the ground. Aedan had often times felt like time had slowed for him in desperate situations. As Flemeth's dragon claws smashed again and again into the ground, Aedan felt no such things here. Instead he was filled with a frantic, savage energy as he weaved between Flemeth's blows, leaving dents in the mud as he sprinted. All he could do was barely react to her blows, but it seems he gained just enough speed and strength to avoid them. The tip of her claw grazed past his nose as he lurched backwards.

Flemeth's tail came from behind. The taint pulsated within his arms and hands as the tail rushed at him, beckoning them forward. His shield slammed against Flemeth's tail and stopped it in it's path. Flemeth growled and swept at Aedan with her enormous claws. Once again, Aedan mustered all his strength as the claws collided with his shield. He stood steady, the heat within him building and coiling. With a single heave, Aedan threw her tail backwards. The act threw Flemeth off balance, and the dragon had stumbled backwards before regaining her footing.

"He knocked her backwards," breathed Alistair in disbelief. Despite the throbbing pain in his leg, the templar heaved himself off the ground and leaned against his sword. At the very least, he would not let Aedan do all the work.

Flemeth swept the ground with her claws in a frenzy even faster than before. Aedan dodged and weaved through storm of blows. His sword parried against the gargantuan claws.

 _Haha! Interesting interesting interesting!_  cackled Flemeth's voice throughout the area.  _To think the taint could be harnessed in such a way. My goodness- I forget there are other talented mages out there besides me. This is the most fun I've had in centuries, Warden!_

"Glad I could help," grunted Aedan, who spun his entire body into a blow against Flemeth's front claw. The sword drove straight into her bone. Flemeth screamed in agony. Flame burst from her nostrils involuntarily. In her moment of distraction, Aedan drove his sword again and again into her claw. Each blow, fueled by the burning taint in his body, sliced deeper and deeper. Throwing his entire body into one last strike, Aedan cleaved straight through the bone. Flemeth let loose a bloodcurdling wail that shook the forest. Her claw hung only by strips of skin from her arm.

With a final roar of anger, Flemeth's other claw smashed down onto Aedan and pinned him down. Even whilst pinned down, however, Aedan's arms still pushed against the crushing force Flemeth exerted upon him. Sweat dripped down his brow; if he wavered in his strength for even second, Flemeth's claw would crush every bone in his body.

 _Enough! You had your chance, Warden,_ seethed Flemeth.

Aedan chuckled and sputtered through his pain, "In the end, you really are Morrigan's mother- both are you so distracted by shiny little baubles, that sometimes you don't see the knockout punch coming."

At that moment, Shale, covered in swamp moss and dripping wet, slammed her glowing crystalline fist into Flemeth's jaw. The dragon stumbled backwards. Shattered jaw bone pierced out of her scaly skin. Flemeth screamed in fury with her disfigured jaw. Wind burst forth from beneath her as her wings desperately took her aloft.

Aedan knew what he had to do. He picked up a sizeable rock in his hand and squinted his eyes as he focused on Flemeth's wings. His eyes spotted the mass of frost bombs that Zevran had planted. Aedan shifted his weight onto his back right foot. In his mind, he imagined the form that long ago Adair showed him. His arm raised up in a L shape and his hips bent. From his feet to his hips to the tips of his fingers the taint roared in his muscles and Aedan hurled the rock. As the rock catapulted towards Flemeth, Aedan stumbled over his follow-through, feeling a little light headed. His warm blood soaked the insides of his armor.

The rock collided with the mass of bombs Zevran had planted near the wings; jagged icicles burst forth from the explosion of chemicals and shattered glass. They pierced through the base of Flemeth's wings. The dragon fell from the sky and tumbled to the ground. Moaning in agony, Flemeth tried to fly away, but Oghren and Sten, despite their heavy wounds, lunged at what remained of her wings and cleaved their blades into her.

In one last act of desperation, Flemeth began to glow with that familiar shapeshifting radiance.

Alistair, who had dragged himself back onto the battlefield, gritted his teeth. "Like hell you do." He clapped his hands together and chanted frantic quiet verse beneath his breath. A wave of invisible heat burst forth from Alistair, followed by a brief flash of blue light. As soon as it hit Flemeth, the light vanished from her and prevented further shapeshifting. Her head flailed as fire spewed in all directions.

Aedan lept onto the back of Flemeth's long spiked neck right near her head. He clamped onto the flailing neck with all his strength with one arm. With the other, he brandished the Cousland blade. The jagged teeth of the blade dug into the front of Flemeth's neck. Aedan pulled against the mass of sinew and dragon scales. Blood spewed forth from Flemeth's neck. The bleeding slowed her flailing as her head thudded against the swamp mud. Aedan rolled off of Flemeth's neck. His chest heaved as he took frantic breaths for air. He stumbled several steps as he tried standing up straight, pausing to hold his dizzying head.

Despite his condition, Aedan dragged his tired legs until he stood directly over the head of Flemeth. Her eyes flitted towards him and stared at him with bemusement. If Aedan could imagine the human Flemeth's face, he thought she might still be wearing that unknowable, sinister smile.

The warden clenched his sword between his two hands with the tip facing downwards. In a single thrust, he drove his word deep into the head of Flemeth. Scarlet blood sprayed out and against Aedans face. Aedan's sword clattered to the ground as he felt his body go numb.

"Can someone get into the hut and find Flemeth's grimoire?" he mumbled. His hand reached out for something to steady his wobbling legs. Everything was spinning. Flemeth's blood dripped down onto his eyes and tinted his vision half red. He could see the blurry figures of Alistair and Leliana grab at him and attempt to steady him, but his legs gave out. Aedan crashed face-first into the ground, and for the first time realized how much blood had collected in his armor, right before his vision went dark.

* * *

Aedan was in pain. He was fading. Morrigan could tell this much from the ring as she paced back and forth. She kept looking every few seconds to the entrance of Wilds in the hopes he'd simply be walking back with a limp. Perhaps the ring was wrong. Perhaps it was her mother's last trick upon her.

Shale smashed through the trees with regards to the environment. Morrigan squinted her eyes and saw that she was carrying what looked to be a bloodied corps-

Her heart dropped.

"Morrigan, Wynne, Aedan needs healing!" screamed Alistair as Shale carried over Aedan's limp body. Morrigan could barely make out the templar's words as her heart throbbed against her chest and head. They laid him out on the grass, with both Alistair's and Shale's hands slick with Aedan's blood. The panicking Morrigan squeezed Aedan's hand for a pulse. The blood in his veins still flowed, and Morrigan could make out a faint heartbeat. "You need to stay awake, Aedan! Wake up!" Morrigan screamed with every fiber in her body, "GET UP!"

Aedan's finger weakly tightened around Morrigan's. Blood trickled out of where Branka had stabbed him in the hand weeks ago.

_Why is he bleeding from his scar?_

Both Wynne and Morrigan's hands hovered over Aedan as they tried to mend his wounds. Morrigan's heart pounded. Her head spun as she willed every inkling of her power into her hands. Green waves pulsated and rumbled through the air. Yet for all her effort, Aedan's heartbeat remained faint and his wound still did not close.

_Why aren't they closing?_

Morrigan leaned backwards and leaned her face into her hand. She needed to rest; her head was spinning. She tried to control the heaving in her chest and the trembling in her fingers, but they would not cease. For the first time, the thought occurred to her: Aedan could die. Her breaths shortened and became more frantic. It had always been a possibility, but never one she'd thought would happen. He was reckless, stubborn, and foolhardy, but he'd always found a way to survive and beat the odds. Armies followed his words. People flocked to him for help. Countless leaders had fallen before his blade. He was something straight out of the stories that the bard told. Her mother had always told her such tales were wishful thinking, but little by little, Aedan had made her believe in him. And yet, half-dead and barely breathing, Morrigan remembered that Aedan was simply a man. He shed blood and tears, and stumbled beneath his responsibilities.

Morrigan took out a spare vial of lyrium and downed the entire thing.

"Morrigan, you can't just drink the entire-"

"I am not losing him!" Her magic grew erratic as the waves of healing energy shook the surrounding area. She slammed her hands against his chest. Morrigan clenched her teeth as tears dripped down her face. Aedan's body glowed like a beacon.

_I don't want to feel this way. This gnawing feeling that claws at my heart. This worrying pain that seeps through my body and sets into my bones. If he is not here, is this what I will be left with? This...sadness?_

"Do not die," she whispered, "Please."

As though on command, Aedan's skin began to mend. Morrigan sighed in relief. She cupped his cheek and smiled weakly. Morrigan felt exhausted from exerting herself so much. But she knew in a few mere hours Aedan would awake, would make a stupid joke and make her laugh, and then she'd sit by his side. It wouldn't matter whether they talked or not; simply having him warmed her being. Her heart ached for that bliss again, so much so her hands shook as the damn thing beat against her chest. Morrigan shook his shoulder once. Aedan did not respond. Morrigan shook him once again with more force, holding back a sob. The man's eyes fluttered. His body convulsed in a seizure and the wounds and scars opened back up. The blood trickled out once again and soaked into the grass beneath him. Morrigan's relieved smile twisted into a horrid expression of desperation.

"He's not healing." Her hands hovered over Aedan's maimed body. Over and over she attempted to summon what little magic she had left; the faintest of sparks emanated from her fingers, then flickered out. Exhausted and her vision blurring from the tears in her eyes, Morrigan hung her head and stared blankly at the ground in silence.

Alsitar stood over Morrigan and his injured friend. His hand hovered over the shaking witch's shoulder. He briefly placed his hand there, but drew away after a few seconds, as though it might burn him. "Let's bandage him up...apply some poultices...and hope he gets better."

Morrigan leaned over the shivering Aedan and hid her face with her hands. Hot tears dripped through the cracks in her fingers and splashed onto Aedan's bloodied face.


	47. Choices

Aedan's eyes fluttered awake. How long had it been since he had slept so well? Aedan's body felt recuperated, that is, until he tried to sit up. Deep pain seared his ligaments, and there was something on his chest weighing him down. Aedan crooked his head up to see Morrigan laying over his chest and sleeping. He smiled and stroked the side of her face with his thumb. The witch, still drowsy eyed, raised her head. A thin trail of drool dripped from her mouth. Aedan chuckled, and the witch took a moment to realize what he was laughing about.

Morrigan hastily wiped her mouth. She did not meet Aedan's gaze. "You are awake."

His stomach lay silent- after such exertion it'd usually rumble and growl. If anything, the increased taint usage should have increased his hunger. He must not have been out for awhile. "Did I pass out from blood loss? How embarrassing," he tried to laugh.

The witch remained silent as Aedan regained his bearings. Perhaps she did not respond due to drowsiness. Aedan groaned and tried to lift himself up again, but pain racked his bones. "Did you translate your mother's true grimoire yet?" Aedan surrendered himself to resting, and stared up at the ceiling of the tent. "Hopefully they remembered to search the cabin before I passed out."

Morrigan didn't answer. She stared at the same spot on the floor. Aedan tilted his head. "Morrigan?"

Aedan leaned his head up again, but this time he saw his body. His eyes widened at the countless bloodied bandages wrapped around him. In the corner of the camp more lay discarded. Flecks of blood still covered Morrigan's fingers.

"What did you do?" Morrigan still avoided his gaze.

"I did what you told me to do. I killed your mother." Aedan scratched the back of his neck and did a half-smile. He didn't need anyone else to know about Avernus's mixture.

"When they brought you in, you were bleeding inside and out. Flemeth could not have caused that internal bleeding. Your heart, your lungs, your muscles, everything…like something was eating away at them." Morrigan fiddled with the ends of one of his bandages. "Your wounds wouldn't close. They just kept opening up, out of control. You almost died. You were at death's door for almost a day. Eventually, your body stopped damaging itself..and we managed to close you up."

" _What did you do?_ " Morrigan met his eyes. Aedan hesitated and he gripped the sheets beneath him. Morrigan's eyes were red and the skin beneath them slightly puffy. Had she been crying?

"Noth-"

"Do not say nothing! Do not pretend like nothing is wrong. Do not shrug this off like every other time." The witch clutched at her chest. "When I see you like this, I feel...I feel this tightness in my chest. This...sadness. I was… am...worried." Morrigan stumbled over her own words, her eyes welling up.

"I'm fine." Aedan propped himself upwards. He peeled away at the bandages at his right arm. The scars from Highever had not opened up, but the one from his battle with Branka on his right hand did. The open wound stung as though Branka had just driven the dagger in. No doubt the more recent the wound, the more likely it was to open up. Aedan rewound the bandage around his right hand. With each passing second, the feeling returned to his limbs.

Morrigan turned her back towards him. "Liar."

"I'm fine." Aedan placed his hands on her arms. She felt cold. She'd probably fallen asleep without a blanket as she watched over him throughout the past few days. Aedan tried to look into her eyes, bags beneath from lack of sleep, but Morrigan turned away from his gaze.

"Liar." Morrigan trembled. "If you had seen your body...if you had seen…"

Morrigan placed her left hand atop of the one Aedan had placed on her right arm. Her fingers curled softly around his. "Every iota of my magic did nothing. All my herbs did nothing. All my knowledge did nothing. I was powerless and I couldn't do a thing to save you. "

"What I've done...is simply how is has to be. It's what I have to carry." Aedan smiled and took Morrigan's hand in his own. The woman shivered, so Aedan hugged his arms around her. The witch lay in his arms against his chest. Her heart pounded. "I'm sorry I put you through that. I know how hard even the thought of losing someone can be."

A wet tear dripped down from Morrigan's face and against the back of his neck. Aedan held her in silence. Morrigan nuzzled her head against the side of his and pressed in closer. After awhile, Aedan coughed uncomfortably and whispered, "I don't want to be that guy, but if you press up against me any closer and a certain part of me is going to...well, let's just say it's been awhile."

Morrigan laughed weakly, wiped away a tear, and pinched his cheek. "Typical man, can't even control his loins." Morrigan pressed her head against his face, and then swivelled her face upwards against his to meet his lips in a tender kiss. Their lips lingered against one another as they tried to pull apart, but the heat between them beckoned them even closer. "You should probably rest," murmured Morrigan, despite moving deeper into the kiss.

"Woman, I just killed a dragon for you. If a mirror gets me a kiss, then you can be sure I'm having my way with you tonight." Aedan intertwined his fingers with hers.

* * *

Alistair heard Morrigan's voice from the tent. The templar scratched the side of his head and sighed. "Maybe I should check on her. She's been by his side the entire time and we were harsh on her earlier,."

"I didn't think she could cry," admitted Leliana as she lightly brushed her fingers over the strings of her lute.

"Don't ever mention we saw that. We could actually die," cautioned Zevran, "Much like many assassins I know, the witch is a tight lipped woman...but perhaps you should check on her, Alistair."

Alistair nodded and approached Aedan's tent. "Morrigan, are you alright-" Alistair opened the flap of the tent. "Maker!" Alistair covered both his eyes and sprinted from the tent. Alistair sat back down in daze with his bowl of soup. He looked back down at the sausage swimming about the broth and gagged. "He's awake...and he receiving...in depth medical attention. Ugh."

"Somehow I figured. Didn't really sound like a crying moan." The laughing elf held his stomach and struggled not to fall out of his seat as he pointed at the distraught Alistair.

Alistair glared at the elven assassin. "If you figured, why didn't you tell me?" Zevran continued to laugh his lungs out and shrugged his shoulders.

"Maybe he just pretended to be wounded to get some pity sex," piped in Oghren. "Also, you gonna eat the rest of that kid?"

"Oghren!" scolded Wynne.

"What? I did it with Branka sometimes."

Alistair, still gagging, handed the dwarf the rest of his stew. The other warrior slurped the leftovers as loudly as possible. "Sometimes a man doesn't want to do any work," explained Oghren through a mouthful of sausage, "and just wants his lady friend to ride on top. Ancestors' know he's tired..the kid just killed a dragon."

"Don't think that's the case...he was going at her like-" Alistair slammed his fist into his other hand repeatedly and stuck his tongue out in disgust. "That is far more penis than I wanted to see today."

"Perhaps it shall meet the quota of the penis  _I_  wish to see today." Zevran eyed Aedan's tent.

"Gross," iterated Alistair, before going back to stoking the fire.

After a few moments of silence, Leliana quietly asked, "So… did you see the entire thing, how big was it-"

"I wasn't checking for size!" Several stray birds flew out of the trees in shock.

"Just curious," Leliana looked away as she twirled one her red bangs, "it's just one of those things you wonder about."

"I don't!"

"I do," stated Zevran, leaning forward and rubbing his chin with a grin. Leliana shrugged her shoulders with a blush in her cheeks. Wynne looked away and whistled. Alistair stared at all three with his hands shaking. "You don't….about mine-" stuttered Alistair.

Zevran licked his lips. "Don't worry, Alistair. I've seen yours while you bathed- you truly do have the sword of a king. If you wish to, ahem, sword fight-"

"One, please stop peeping at my penis, and two, not that I was fishing for that, but thanks anyways."

Leliana gestured at Zevran with both hands and increased the size between the two of them as though measuring something. Zevran leaned in, grabbed both hands, and pulled them further apart. Lelina covered her mouth and eyed Alistair's lower body with a smile.

Alistair buried his scarlet face in his hands.

* * *

Morrigan's fingers dragged against Aedan's back as her body convulsed with pleasure, her mind blank. Her body rocked against Aedan's as, unable to hold on, he slammed one final time into her, eliciting a frenzied moan from Morrigan. Her legs locked around his waist as he grunted and finished. Morrigan gasped a little with each hot spurt inside of her. Sweaty and exhausted, Aedan sank down against Morrigan's body. Morrigan grinded her hips instinctively against his, still riding down from the post-orgasm bliss. Aedan cradled her head in his arms and embraced Morrigan in a slow kiss. He withdrew and opened his eyes to find Morrigan staring back up at him with panting lips, her eyes still wanting. Her hands weak, she tugged on Aedan's neck and murmured. Aedan relented and kissed her again. The two stayed like that for awhile, basking in each other's warmth.

Aedan rolled both of them onto their sides and let out a long pained groan. Perhaps he had gone a little bit more than his body could take. He peeked through the crack in his tent flap; it had been afternoon when they started, and now the moon shone outside in the darkness. "I think I'm just going to lay down for the next few days...maybe sleep off the whole 'almost dying' thing a bit more."

Morrigan tried to speak, but through her own heavy breaths could not get a single word out. She tried to get up but her limbs tingled and felt like jelly. She glanced at Aedan's tent flap and then back at him. Their legs still intertwined and their bodies pressed together- her back to his chest, him spooning her. Aedan's heavy breath tickled the back of her head and the fall and rise of his chest warmed her back.

Noticing her hesitation, Aedan said, "You don't have to go. I mean, first off, you have to put on all your clothes again to get back out." He nuzzled his nose into her hair and took a quick inhale, and smiled a little. Morrigan's hair smelt like wild herbs and the slightest tinge of cocoa.

"I haven't set up my tent either." Morrigan twirled a bang of her sweat slicked hair. Her hand gripped Aedan's.

"And even if you wanted to set it up, it's rather cold outside too."

"And I'd have to deal with the prying eyes of our companions." Morrigan turned around on her side, lay her head on his arm and clung onto Aedan's torso. Aedan wrapped his arm around her and drew her closer. Although she was tired, sweaty, and sleep deprived, none of those were the reasons why Morrigan didn't want to get up. Aedan was warm and comfortable. She dug her face into his rough neck and smiled. It was only practical to sleep here. There was nothing more to it. As the witch drifted off into slumber, cradled by Aedan, a single thought popped into her mind.

_Maybe...I don't have to leave at all._

Morrigan's eyes widened. Everything hit her all at once. What was she doing? Here she was doing such unnecessary things. She had no reason to sleep next to him during the night. She had no reason to fret over him unnecessarily. She was here for one reason. Regardless of Flemeth's death, Morrigan still had a job to do. Morrigan looked to the side at Aedan's drooping eyes. She struggled to pull herself from his side. Every part of her body ached to stay and lay down in warmth and affection. Her chest clenched at the sight of the man next to her.

_What is this dependency? This hunger?_

"I need to go." Morrigan gathered her clothes. Her head pounded as she pulled her robes back over her head in a huff. She didn't even take her time to tie all her straps or finish putting her arm through the last loop in her robe. As quickly as she had shot up, Morrigan rushed out the entrance to Aedan's tent.

"Oh..okay." Aedan frowned and rolled over onto his back. He looked over at the empty spot on his bedroll where Morrigan had laid. His hand reached over to clasp the fabric, still warm.

* * *

It had been a week since that night where Morrigan had rushed out. Aedan and Alistair sat across from each other in silence, sipping on their soup. Aedan frowned. Something tasted different- as though it had been watered down. "Did we thin out the soup or something?" The comment was not particularly directed at Alistair, but the templar heard it.

"Same recipe as usual." Alistair opened his mouth to jest, the whispers of a grin forming at the edges of his mouth, but the smile faded and left the two in silence again.

Alistair and Aedan were still not on the best terms. Ever since Aedan's heated outburst at Alistair, and Alistair storming off, neither of them had talked about the issue. Aedan knew he had some fault in it. Alistair had been arguing, albeit somewhat annoyingly, about the validity of a grey decision. Alistair had fault as well- he did not try to understand what Aedan was going through when he made that decision.

Yet when Aedan had gotten enraged, Aedan crossed a line. Aedan knew that the topic of leadership was a sore one for Alistair, and Aedan had simultaneously questioned Alistair's ability to lead and belittled him.

I am your leader, Aedan had said. He had taken the unspoken and spoke it. Worse he had berated Alistair for not being the leader. The two had never talked about how after Ostagar Aedan had taken up the reins when it should have fallen to Alistair.

Aedan raised his eyebrows whilst waiting for the joke, but Alistair had fallen silent again. Aedan frowned and stirred the soup in his bowl. He missed the jokes. The two had been close to equals before Orzammar. Aedan compared the situation in his mind to that of soldiers or guardsmen- those of equal rank could joke and jester with each other like good friends, but when it came to commanding officers they could not.

Out of the corner of his eye Aedan saw Morrigan flicker into the forest. Aedan strode off into her direction. The witch looked back, saw him, and flinched.

"Morrigan, have you been avoiding me?" asked Aedan. Morrigan paused and turned to face him. She brushed her hair aside and tried to keep a calm look on. "No, I simply do not wish to speak to you."

"That's the same thing."

Taken aback and with no other deflections ready, Morrigan bit her lip. "I...wish to ask something of you. I have been wondering how to best it put into words."

Aedan had never seen Morrigan like this. Nervous, almost of breath, her voice trembling. Her usual calm demeanor had been r "Alright."

The witch's eyes kept darting their gaze from the ground to Aedan to the sky and back. Her fingers and feet fidgeted. "I wish to know your opinion of love."

Aedan took a second to process. He raised his eyebrows. "My opinion? On love?" The warden hesitated before answering, "In general? Or in relation to...us?"

Morrigan composed herself by holding her hand to her chest. She took several deep breaths. "You are...impressive...in many ways, and even protected me from Flemeth without hope of reward. I oftentimes find myself looking upon you unnecessarily." Her calm veneer faded as her breathing hastened. "When I do, I feel anxious. Like my chest tightens and I cannot breathe." Morrigan's speech accelerated. "I dislike this feeling. This pain of dependency. When you're not here...when you're in danger, I cannot think straight. I cannot sleep. Yet when you're here, I'm compelled to do things so impractical, like be held by you, touch you, simply sit by you…" Morrigan rubbed her face over and over stuttering out her words. Her normally well-kept dark hair had stray ends sticking out. "Is this what love is? Fretting over someone, hungering for them, until it consumes you?" The witch shivered and placed her hands on the sides of her arms. "I just...just want to be like I was before," relented Morrigan. "Say you do not love me, and release me from this….torture! Perhaps...that will solve it."

"How is love torture?" asked Aedan, half in confusion, half out of fear of what might come next.

"To be bound to another human like this is torture! To have to feel...when you are not well. To have to be in pain when you are in pain. To have worry tie itself around your heart and squeeze the air out of your chest. I do not wish to be like this anymore! Say you do not love me, and release me!"

Even as she said her words, Morrigan took a step towards him, but the loudness and desperation of Morrigan's voice made Aedan take a step back. His face twisted in confusion. The witch saw his face and his retreat and clutched her arms. "I see it in your eyes, this is not how a normal woman acts. See- I am not worth your distraction, and you are not worth mine."

Aedan's mind raced as he processed Morrigan's words. Had he ever been in 'love'? He had dallied with the daughters of nobles, and occasionally with the townsfolk. After all, throwing out the name 'Cousland', a family second only to the king, tended to have an effect on women. He had lusted after women and pursued them, but he never truly spent more time than that in their company, certainly not enough to call it a relationship.

Leliana spoke of it in her romantic tales of fancy. Of knights rescuing princesses from towers. Of humble stable boys capturing the heart of a noble far above their league. In the stories however, Leliana merely defined love by itself. The two 'fell in love' or 'love bloomed'.

If there was such as definition, Aedan could only think of one for the word 'love'. Aedan had loved his family. He remembered fondly the warmth of his mother's hugs, the countless days spent roughhousing with his brother, reading stories to his nephew Oren, the familiar taste of Nan's cooking, and of course the teachings and talks of his father. He could not define it as a single sentence, but more like a collections of moments.

"Say you do not love me," Morrigan repeated again, with a trembling ache in her voice. Aedan stood there, his mouth opening and closing without saying anything. In all his time, Aedan had never seen Morrigan's face twist in such a way. Her lips and eyes quivered. He wasn't sure what she wanted him to say. Aedan wasn't sure what he wanted to say.

When he thought about whether or not he loved Morrigan, the little moments they had shared flashed by in his mind. When they sat beside each other in camp and talked and how he'd smile. How she pouted whenever he went too far in teasing her, and how he'd have to apologize. How her simple meals tasted; not extravagant nor fancy like noble food, but humble and delicious in their own way. How when she smiled he felt like his burdens lightened a bit.

The words left Aedan's mouth:

"I can't."

Morrigan hesitated for a moment, tears welling up in her eyes. "So you would willingly submit to this? You would willingly submit me to this?"

Aedan stepped forward to reach for her but the witch backed away. Aedan's hand outstretched towards Morrigan, yearning for her. "That's not-" Aedan took another step, one too close. Without thinking her hand shot out. The resounding slap of her hand against his cheek silenced Aedan. He rubbed the side of his face.

Morrigan held her shaking hand. "I'm so sorry," she croaked. Morrigan ran off further into the forest.

Aedan raised his hand to reach out for her, but another wave of memories came over him. How he had sat in the carriage with Duncan for three days after his family's death in silent mourning. down. The sadness that flitted in his heart every day as he thought about them. How in the dark of the night their memories haunted him. Aedan had no idea what could happen to him in the days to come. Would he willingly put Morrigan through the same agony that he too had gone through?

Aedan lowered his outstretched hand and let it lay at his side.

* * *

Morrigan spoke not a word to him from then on. By week's end, the others no doubt had picked up on the fact the two no longer spoke, but they didn't say a word though. They had at least that much tact. Oghren however left half a handle of booze in Aedan's tent. Sometimes Aedan forgot that Oghren had just lost his significant other and most of his family. Often times he found the dwarf drunk out of his mind. Was he any different?

Aedan held the flask in his hand close to his chest as he lay down in his bedroll. An empty bottle lay at Aedan's side- the booze helped him get what little sleep he could. The more, the better. He couldn't sleep without it now.

After he drifted off into slumber, Aedan found himself in the darkness of his dreams once again. He walked alone with his bare feet. Thick blood soaked between the cracks of his toes. The bodies of the werewolves turned humans that he had killed floated in the swamp of blood. By now, Aedan had seen them enough times in his dreams that the sight of them no longer perturbed him. A woman's lopped off head rolled over and dead fish-like eyes stared straight back at him. Aedan rolled his eyes in irritation and kicked the head off into the distance. He'd had enough of nightmares. He clenched his fists and punched himself in the stomach, trying to will himself awake, but to no avail. The blood soaked battlefield before him remained.

A single torch alit. Branka stood before him, her face half charred, with molten armor dripping down her bleeding limbs. "You destroyed the Anvil of the Void. Think of the countless lives those golems could have saved; even if it came to pass that tyrants would force people into golems, each one suffering life could have saved thousands."

Another fire alit, revealing the mother from dust town. "You killed my son. You killed all those Carta members. many of whom simply joined up to get a better life. You dare call yourself a good person?"

A dozen more torches alit, revealing Aedan to be in the Assembly. Scores of dwarven warriors, nobles, and children stood in the stands instead of the usual Assembly spokespeople. Harrowmont stood before Aedan with blood dripping from his neck. "And what of my house, whom you left to the slaughter?"

"What about us?"

"You didn't save my son-"

"You weren't fast enough-"

The countless people closed in upon him. They lumbered towards him like the undead of Redcliffe and beset him on all sides. Branka, Harrowmont, the Carta, and all the other hideously deformed victims rushed at him. Aedan roared and slashed his sword forward into the crowd. Blood sprayed from their wounds. More people leapt from behind. Aedan swung around and cleaved their heads into two. He swung and he swung until finally he was soaked in a layer of scarlet blood and the entrails of his victims.

Only Branka remained. The disgustingly burnt woman erupted with fury and the familiar tentacles of the broodmother burst forth from the pool of blood. Aedan dodged and weaved through the storm of tentacles with a cold precision. Finally, he reached Branka, and grabbed her by the neck. He pushed her down into the pool of blood and strangled her beneath the thick liquid. The dwarven woman struggled beneath his grip and clawed at his forearms. Her tainted nails scraped off pieces of his flesh. Bubbles of blood from her desperate breaths splashed in Aedan's face but soon slowed as the specter beneath the blood ceased her struggles.

"You've made quite a mess here, son," came his father's voice from behind. Aedan spun around, expecting to see another mangled corpse. Instead he saw his father as he remembered him- or at least as much as he could remember. Bryce's face was blurred and unfocused despite being only three feet away from Aedan. It was as though Aedan was peering at the man from over a vast distance. The memory of his father's face was fading from his mind. "Sure you're doing the right thing here?"Bryce placed his hand on Aedan's shoulder.

Aedan brushed off his father's hand. "I made my decisions the best I could. If I had to make those decisions over again, I would. There is no choice without consequence, and I chose the lesser evils." He grimaced at the ghost before him with the blood dripping down his face.

Bryce laughed at Aedan, like one would at a small child. "Do you think that matters? Do you think simply accepting your decisions will make us and the rest go away? We're just reflections. Reflections of the dead, fueled by your memories and thoughts." The smiling specter of his father approached him. Aedan's heart pounded against his chest and the sweat dripped down his neck. Aedan backed away warily until he felt the clammy hands of the dead clasp onto his feet and hold him in place.

"So really, the only person in here who truly detest and despises what you've done-"

Staring straight into his son's eyes, Bryce took his hand and ruffled Aedan's hair.

"-is you."

One by one the people whom he had lost dragged themselves up from the bottomless pool of blood. His mother, Oren, Fergus, Oriana, Nan, Teharel, Adair, and countless others from Castle Cousland all surrounded him.

"You, who thought, he could be a hero," said his mother.

"I saved the Circle! I saved Redcliffe! All you need is resolve, big speeches, and the power of understanding to save all the innocents!" mocked Fergus.

"Even though all your heroes failed you, you foolishly thought you could become what they could not," said Oriana.

"You thought you could learn from my regret," stated Teharel.

"And learn from my sins," stated Adair.

"You thought you could be better than Loghain, who sacrificed the king and all those men. You thought you could be better than Zathrian, who let his rage consume the people around him. You thought you could be better than Branka, who sacrificed countless lives just to reach her objective," said Bryce,"but you're not better, and you know that. You're weren't strong enough to live up to your unrealistic standards of a hero. You can never be that person. And because you weren't that person, everything you love has left you, and you hate yourself for your own weakness."

His loved ones went silent, leaving only the sound of blood dripping from their bodies. Aedan looked back at each and everyone of them, his chest heavy with regret. For what seemed like an eternity, Aedan stood in silence, before he croaked, "Don't tell me things I already know."

Bryce smiled, revealing rotting teeth. The same grotesque black liquid that flowed in Hespith's veins oozed out of the cracks in his teeth. Aedan looked around and saw everyone's skin rotting off before him. They clawed at their faces, peeling away their skin to reveal infected, rotted flesh beneath it. He could smell that sickening acidic stench, like the broodmother's bile.

A deafening roar blew Aedan backwards into the pool of blood. Aedan choked and gagged. The man scrambled backwards and tried to catch his back. Upon looking backwards, he saw it.

The archdemon.

Three times bigger than Flemeth. Jagged, yellowed teeth like swords. Maggots squirmed in the rotted skin, stretched over the decrepit skeleton of the Old God. It's eyes, filled with a swirling darkness and ancient malice, stared at him. Aedan's hands shook and he reached for the Cousland sword by his side. Instead all he found was a single shard of the shattered blade. Aedan grabbed it regardless with his bare hand. The metal dug into his clenched grip and blood ran down his arm. Aedan roared and lept at the Archdemon. The dragon opened its mouth. The rows of teeth expanded outwards and revealed an endless chasm. Aedan fell headfirst into the monster's throat and plummeted into the darkness.

"Don't worry son," croaked his father in the distance, "No matter what happens, no matter how much of a monster you become, there is an end to your journey. Just finish this one last job, and then you can come home to us."

Aedan shot out of his bed. Sweat dripped down his forehead as the Warden struggled to find his breath. After a few moments of feverish panting, Aedan closed his eyes and swallowed a deep breath of air. He needed to sleep. He hadn't slept in the last two days. He fumbled for his flask once again and downed what remained. When that emptied, he reached for another bottle.

* * *

How long had it been since Aedan had been back to Soldier's Keep? Barely more than two months, but Aedan felt like it had been an eternity. So many things had happened. As Aedan walked through the main gate, he greeted Levi with a weary smile as the eager merchant responded with a wave. Levi's kids scattered about the courtyard playing a game of some sorts.

"You're not going to unpack first?" asked Levi, "My wife just made soup if you'd like some." Aedan smiled sadly in appreciation of the kindness of the merchant.

"I've got an old man to interrogate," grunted Aedan as he strode off towards Avernus's tower, without a word to the rest of his companions. Levi had sectioned him off to a remote part of the keep to keep him away from the children. While Aedan doubted that Avernus would dare use children as test subjects, he did not blame Levi for taking precautions.

Aedan struggled up the steps of Avernus's tower; he was more tired than ever before. His last night of sleep had been that nightmare almost three days ago. Not even the booze could get him to sleep. "Maybe if I drink more, I'll finally pass out," groaned Aedan as he eased himself up the stairs. He took a moment to rest upon the railing and let the throbbing in his head subside. After a deep breath, Aedan continued until he reached the wooden door to Avernus's chamber. Aedan ignored common courtesy and simply opened the door to the chamber. "Let's talk, Avernus."

Inside the old man cooked up some experiment. Strange odors and smokes wafted through the room. Avernus looked up from his mixtures at Aedan. He squinted once, then smiled and drummed his fingers together. "So, took my mixture did you? I can smell it."

"You never cease to creep me out." Aedan slung the rest of his bags to the side of Avernus's room, careful not to get it near a dried up blood stain. "But yes, I took it, and it proved rather useful. Killed a dragon with it."

Avernus's eyes alit. "An actual real High Dragon?"

"Well, just a apostate shapeshifted into one," admitted Aedan. He wondered if an actual dragon or Flemeth would be more dangerous.

The mage frowned and gave a half-hearted sigh. "Still, very intriguing...would it be too late to get blood samples...no, far far too late, and the blood wouldn't have the right alchemical properties. Still, if you happen upon any other blood samples, we could use them to augment and stabilize the mixture in your blood."

"So by stabilize, are you talking about the bleeding side effect?" asked Aedan, "Seems to defeat the purpose of a 'perfect' mixture."

"Bleeding side effect?"

"My wounds open up when I use this, scars and all."

"I never had to worry about healing my test subjects. Never saw this in them either." The mage scratched his chin and pondered for a few moments. His fingers traced strange symbols and numbers in the air as he calculated something in his head. "No matter; as long as you train your body to handle it and use it sparingly until such a time, you should be fine. It's like giving an untrained soldier a weapon; eventually he'll learn how not to smack himself in the face."

"Can you fix it now? That's why I'm here," said Aedan, "I doubt the Archdemon and the horde are just going to sit around and twiddle their thumbs together while I hit trees."

"Possibly." Avernus thumbed through some of his old research notes. "In my time at Soldier's Keep, I have had limited success with the preserves of dragon's' blood in my lab in terms of accelerated regeneration. I tried dragon's blood because I heard rumors of certain dragon cults possessing the knowledge to ritually enhance dragon's blood, and then ingest it, similar to the Joining. I was trying to recreate something similar, but their formula has taken hundreds of years to perfect. I could only do so much."

"Fantastic. I'll just go find another dragon to kill, or cult, or whatever, bloody hell. I run into weird shit every other day." He unwrapped his forearms bandages and held out his bloodied right hand. It still had not healed properly. "You want blood samples or something? I assume my blood's useful to you now and I'm already half-open."

Avernus rubbed his hands together with a grin. He grabbed his beakers and vials, squealing in delight. The elderly mage positioned a funnel beneath Aedan's outstretched hand. The Warden squeezed the wound in his right hand and let blood dribble down the funnel into Avernus's vial. "Technically, the most ideal sample would be most of your bone marrow. I could reproduce most of the formula from that."

"Excuse me while I go lob off my limbs."

"Well, considering after the Archdemon I'll perform an autopsy on you, I think I'll manage to sneak off a few bone marrow samples."

"What do you mean, after the Archdemon? You sound like I'm guaranteed to die. Thanks for the vote of confidence," joked Aedan, expecting a quick response from Avernus. Avernus looked at him puzzled. His wrinkled face twisted into a sad look of pity. His signature maniacal smile had vanished.

"What? What did I say?" The room felt cold all of a sudden.

"They never told you, did they?" Avernus whispered as he put away his vials. He pulled over a chair and sat down before Aedan. He motioned for Aedan to sit but the warden scowled and remained standing.

Aedan narrowed his eyes as he redid his bandages. "Told me what? Alistair already told me about the Calling. I've still got a couple of decades left."

"The other Warden wouldn't know about this either I'm guessing." Avernus rubbed his forehead and took a deep breath. "When an Archdemon is slain, it's soul escapes to the nearest darkspawn, as they are soulless. They are essentially immortal, jumping from vessel to vessel. If the Archdemon's soul inhabits a darkspawn, it shall still be able to command the horde, and the darkspawn will eventually warp to the Old God's original form."

Aedan hesitated. "Then how does a Blight end?"

"You think it a coincidence that every Warden who killed the Archdemon 'died of their wounds'? This is the very reason why Grey Wardens are specifically needed to stop the Blight. As we are vessels with souls and the taint, the Archdemon's soul will gravitate to the one who slew it. Since there are two souls and only one vessel, the two will collide and implode, destroying them both. Since I doubt that Orlais will be sending any help, the only people in this country capable of killing the Archdemon is you and Alistair...and no doubt you will need to put the Theiren blood on the throne...so that leaves the killing blow to…"

"Me." Aedan slumped against the nearby desk and slid into the seat. His head throbbed from the lack of sleep. It took him a few minutes to process what Avernus had said. Aedan's response could barely be heard. "So...I'm going to die?" Aedan stared blankly at the wall. He had known of the Calling, but that was thirty years away. He knew everyday of the risks he underwent in risking his life to fight the darkspawn, but it was always a theoretical. All of that was different from a guaranteed death sentence.

He hadn't thought much about what he'd do after the Blight. He never stopped to imagine. To think about a happier time, to think about the life he had once had, always brewed sadness in his heart, but there had been a little part of him that hoped that the universe would reward him with a bit of happiness for stopping the Blight. Apparently that had been too much to hope for.

"Usually the senior Wardens like me are tasked with landing the killing blow...but I would not survive the battle to the Archdemon with this body of mine." The elder mage awkwardly stood by his alchemy setup and fiddled with one of his test tubes.

"Don't tell Alistair. Don't tell any of the others." Aedan's voice wavered. "Don't tell Morrigan."

"I'm sorry," said Avernus. Despite having tortured and experimented on countless, as well as having summoned demons, Aedan felt that this was the first time he had heard the old Warden speak those words.

"Don't be." Aedan lifted himself out of his chair. "It's my responsibility."

* * *

The others clamored upstairs over dinner. Alistair had managed to kill a boar in the forest that day, and everyone was fairly excited, especially Zevran. "Antivan boar is to die for," the elf had exclaimed as he gathered up all the herbs. Aedan didn't feel like joining them. If he did, he'd sit there in silence as the others laughed and joked. It didn't matter at this point anyways. The closer he got to them, the more they would suffer upon his eventual death. It was better that Morrigan and him had stopped talking. She'd only suffer after he was gone.

No one ever came down to the abandoned pantry, leaving only empty cupboards. Aedan rummaged through the decrepit drawers and sifted through cobwebs for any sort of food. To his surprise, an old bottle of scotch had been hidden away in one of the corners. "Lucky me," muttered Aedan who snatched up the bottle. Not having found any substantial food, Aedan sat down at the counter and pulled out a piece of jerky from his pocket. Aedan bit off a chunk and as he chewed, a realization dawned on him. His chewing slowed.

Aedan couldn't taste anything.

He rolled the hunk of meat inside his mouth over his chewed a little more. He could feel the texture and the juices inside, but he could not taste it. Aedan swallowed the remainder and pulled out another piece of jerky, desperately chewing it in his mouth. It tasted like nothing but wet paper, with an sour, grimy aftertaste. His hands shaking, Aedan grabbed a vial of herbal medicine that Wynne had given him to eat, and swallowed the noxious mixture in one gulp. Everytime he had had this before, it tasted like garbage. Now it tasted like wet paper like the rest.

There may be...side effects, echoed Avernus in his mind. The vial in his hand clattered against the counter. One last try. His hand moved to the scotch. Aedan had always loved the complexity of scotch- each one had it's own different set of flavors. Aedan poured the golden-brown liquid into the glass before him. He rolled the scotch around the inside of the glass. Aedan took a sniff- he could smell a light splash of citrus along with a nutty pecan scent and a hint of smoke. Aedan closed his eyes and took a sip. All complex flavor he had expected was no longer- all he could taste was the burn of alcohol. Aedan set the glass down with his right and leaned his forehead against his left.

For so long, Aedan had been fighting simply so the nation could survive. Yet he made sure that the choices he had made would ensure the stability of Ferelden after the Blight: he made sure that the mages would not be prosecuted for crimes not their own. He made sure that curse of the werewolves would spread no longer, and that those formerly under it would live happier lives. He made sure that Arl Eamon would have a family to come back to. And of all of them, he had sacrificed the most in ensuring that Orzammar would ensure in a new age of equality and trade.

But what was left for him? Aedan had been losing what little remained. He no longer had his family. Morrigan no longer spoke to him. Alistair and the others regarded him more as a leader than a friend, and their joyful conversation of old had been replaced by solemn silence. Aedan could no longer even sleep, and instead suffered through nightmares and guilt-ridden panic attacks. Now Aedan tasted nothing. Even the simplest of pleasures eluded him, ones that even animals possessed.

Aedan grimaced as he downed the rest of his glass. You were supposed to sip a nice scotch like this and let it linger in your mouth. He poured another. "It doesn't even matter if I'm going to die," muttered Aedan to himself, "if there's nothing left of my life by the end of this."

* * *

_The weeks since returning to Castle Cousland had been nothing short of boring. At least when he had been running around with Adair and Teharel, things had been exciting. Aedan slouched drowsily in one of the large, comfy chairs of the living room. The chair had been imported straight from Orlais; a gift from those trying to gain favor with his father. Despite the reputation Orlais had in Fereldan, Aedan wriggled around comfortably in the plush wool cushions of the chair. A beam of light shone hazily upon him, and a comfortable warmth trickled through his body. Aedan grabbed a nearby blanket and pulled it over himself._

_"Drink, Aedan?"_

_Aedan looked up to see his father walk in with a book and a bottle of scotch. His father often liked to come into the living room and read by himself with a glass of scotch. "It's lunchtime, father. I'm not that shameless," yawned Aedan._

_"Says the one napping in the middle of the day," chided his father, pulling Aedan's blanket from him. The young man groaned and snatched it back. His father rolled his eyes._

_"Do you ever think about what I'm going to do when I'm older, Father?"_

_"That's still a long ways off."_

_"I'm twenty-one, father. Not really."_

_Aedan's father blinked, then chuckled to himself. "Sorry, it's just that I always think of you like a little boy...the brightly colored blanket doesn't help."_

_Aedan tossed away the blanket and replaced it a with a more subdued brown one._

_"I mean...what do you want to do?" asked his father as he thumbed through his book. Aedan rolled over in his chair and stared at the ceiling in thought._

_"Honestly, I'm not sure. I could always stick around in Castle Cousland and stick around and help Fergus and you manage Highever, but you two are more than capable of doing that by yourselves." Aedan rubbed the back of his neck against the wool lining of the cushion, trying to itch a particular spot on his neck. After several moments of struggle, he finally hit the spot. Aedan sighed in relief. "I dunno...helping people sounds like something I'd like to do," yawned Aedan whilst stretching his arms. He pondered drowsily for a few moments before musing, "Maybe a Grey Warden?"_

_"A Grey Warden?" Bryce Cousland raised his eyebrow._

_"It's not that complicated a job. Go around and kill darkspawn all day. You don't have to deal with politicians, you have support from countries around Thedas, and you have comrades to fight by your side. Doesn't sound so bad."_

_"I'm a little wary to let my only other son join the Wardens. Plus, I'd doubt they'd take you."_

_"Really, Father?" scoffed Aedan, "Have you ever tried sparring against me?"_

_"And I never shall, because I know you'll properly trounce me," replied Bryce, sipping on his scotch. The elder Cousland rolled the glass about in his hand, letting the liquid coat the insides of the glass. He took a nice sniff of the scotch and sighed. "You eat too much. You sleep in past noon most days. You have quite a lack of respect for authority. You get itchy if you're not wearing anything besides fine linens. You-"_

_"I get it, Father, I live a cushy noble life," said Aedan, pulling his blanket over himself in defeat._

_"Well, that's not to say one day, son. Just don't be so quick to grow up." Looking over at his son struggling to tuck the blanket around himself, Bryce wasn't quite sure that day would come so soon._

_"I want to be a Grey Warden too!" said Oren, having overheard the conversation from the hallway. The bright eyed little boy bounced into the living room and starting jabbing his wooden sword at Aedan's legs._

_"Maker, it's like an epidemic." Bryce rubbed his eyelids. Aedan ignored his father's annoyance and greeted his nephew with a wide grin. He took the blanket off of himself and tied it around Oren's neck like a cape. "How about you and I do battle against the the dreadful darkspawn mabari that lurks the corriders of this house? The frightful Gregory shall be defeated this day!" declared Aedan as he picked Oren up and placed him on his shoulders._

_"Let's go kill some darkspawn!" Oren bounced ontop his uncle's shoulders. "Heya!" he shouted as he jabbed his wooden sword at his grandfather. Bryce Cousland faked fear and chuckled, "Mercy upon me!"_

_"Let us find this mighty Gregory and conquer him and all the darkspawn!" declared Oren who placed his hands on his hips. Doing so, however, made him totter precariously. Aedan placed his hand behind Oren's back and steadied him._

_Aedan thought about what Adair said about enjoying his life. His noble life had always seemed boring and filled with nonsense politics, but seeing the dark corners of the world that Teharel and Adair had inhabited made Aedan appreciate the almost dream-like life he had always had. He had food, warm clothes, and a family who loved him. Aedan smiled as he thought about it. One day he'd be a hero, when he was grown and ready, but until then, he'd enjoy being a stupid young man doing childish things._

_"Hold on tight, Oren," said Aedan. Oren grabbed onto Aedan head and squeezed for his life. Aedan sprinted down the hallways of Castle Cousland with Oren's cape flowing in the wind._

_For now, there was no place he'd rather be. His home._

* * *

Aedan lost count of how many glasses he had. He could no longer taste anything except the burn so he simply wished to down it as quickly as possible. At some point, the sun had set, and Aedan sat alone in the dark with a stomach filled with not food but several glasses of booze. Only the quiet of the keep remained by his side- the rest of his comrades no doubt slumbered.

Alone in the dark, Aedan said aloud the words he had sometimes thought in the darkest corners of his mind. "I wish I had stayed there that night in Highever...with you two," he murmured drunkenly. As quickly however as that thought entered his mind, he shook it away. His parents had sacrificed themselves to save him. To think such a thing was a disgrace to their memory.

Then a thought occurred to him. Why had Duncan saved him? Why had his parents saved him? Why had Flemeth saved him? A response popped into his head:

_I am alive for one singular purpose. To kill the Archdemon. Nothing else._

He repeated it once again in head, sitting up a little straighter.

_I am alive for one singular purpose. To kill the Archdemon. Nothing else._

Then he repeated again, and again, until finally his mind was calm. For once, his head felt clear of all distractions. Was this true clarity, or simply a drunken haze? What was it he had said? 'It doesn't even matter if I'm going to die, if there's nothing left of my life by the end of this anyways.'?

"That's wrong," he whispered to himself. "It's the opposite." Aedan rubbed at his heavy eyes that refused to close and drift off to slumber. "It doesn't matter if there's nothing left of my life by the end of this, because I'm going to die anyways."

A little laugh sputtered out of him. Then another, sadder and quieter than the first. Aedan didn't need to waste his time on something as silly as being happy. He would throw himself into the task before him, the very reason why he was alive. It didn't matter how many sleepless nights Aedan had. It didn't matter how many scars and wounds were inflicted upon him. It didn't matter who he alienated. It didn't matter if by the end, Aedan stood alone, his hands tainted with the blood of countless people.

Aedan tipped his glass backwards and finished the last of his drink. It didn't matter what he wanted. Aedan should be the Warden. Aedan needed to be the Warden. Aedan had to be the Warden.

_My job is to lead this country against the Blight. Nothing more, nothing less._

The Warden, alone and holding the empty glass in his hand, whispered to himself, "I'll finish this one last job, and then I'll come back home to you all."

* * *

**PART 5 END**

* * *

 


	48. Blood

* * *

**Part 6: Faith**

* * *

 Light flooded Samson's vision when the sack was ripped from his face. Once the cloth gagging his mouth had been removed, he gasped for air. His captor, his own helm still on, stared Samson down. The armored stranger had barged in no more than an hour ago and demanded information on Genitivi. Samson thought he had imitated Weylon, Genitivi's assitant, well, but apparently not well enough. Once he had finished speaking the armored man attempted to look around. Samson could still smell the burnt wood- he had attempted to kill the stranger with a fire spell. That was the second to last thing Samson remembered, the very last being the stranger punching him in the jaw.

"I'm not sure what to call you," said the stranger. "What's your name?" His armor bore the Grey Warden insignia, dirtied by grime and blood. Samson gulped as he realized who the man might be- after all, only two Grey Wardens remained in Ferelden. Ferelden called him the Warden. Despite how secluded Haven was, even they had heard the rumours. The Warden had slaughtered darkspawn, abominations, werewolves, undead, and criminals alike. If not for the Warden, dozens of villages would have fallen completely to the Blight. He had saved powerful organizations like the Circle from utter ruin. He was a savior to the innocents and an executioner to the rest.

Samson flexed his fingers to cast a spell. To his despair, nothing happened. The Warden scoffed, "That won't work. A vendor of mine gave me a little poison. Magebane they called it. It'll block your spells for a few minutes, but that's all we'll need."

The Warden grinded his knife against a whetstone. Brief sparks lit the darkness. Samson writhed against his bonds. His chair legs screeched against the wooden floor.

"I know you're not Weylon. Be civil now." The Warden secured the knife in his belt and turned to face his prisoner.

"My name is Weylon," stuttered Samson. He had to keep his cover, for the sake of his holy prophet Andraste.

"Weylon is the name of the corpse I found half-rotted in the other room. Did you even think about giving him proper funeral rites?" The Warden drew in closer and leaned both his hands on Samson's chair.

Samson paused. If the Warden already knew, Samson need not pretend any longer, but the rest of his knowledge needed to stay hidden. For the greater good. "He got too close...asked too many questions. As are you. My brethren will-"

The Warden steadied Samson's chair with one hand, and bashed the other into the man's face. A bloodied tooth clattered against the floor. Samson grunted in agony, but tried his best to hold it in. The Warden ignored Samson's pained cries and continued. "Do you know what I could be doing right now? I could be riding back to Soldier's Peak to organize my troops and send them out to help with village evacuations. I could be training to defeat the Archdemon. Instead, I am here prying information out of a scumbag like you."

Steadying his mind, Samson concentrated on his words his holy Father Kolgrim. "O Maker, hear my cry. Guide me through the blackest nights. Steel my heart against the tempes-"

The Warden growled and slammed his palm over Samson's mouth. The rest of Samson's prayer was but a muffle.

"Let me tell you what I want to know." The Warden tightened his grip on Samson's mouth. "Did you come from Haven?" Sharp metal fingers scraped Samson's cheeks and the man whimpered. The Warden released his grip and instead grabbed onto the man's hair. He tugged upwards. Samson clenched his teeth as the Warden lifted Samson off the ground.

The Warden pulled Samson's ear close enough to whisper in. "Let me clarify. You  _will_ answer my questions. Every time you do not answer them, I  _will_ rip off a finger with my bare hands." The Warden dropped Samson back onto the ground. The chair legs thumped against the stone floor. "If you answer all my questions, I'll let you go. So one more time: did you come from Haven?"

Samson thought of the holy Andraste, whom he once glimpsed flying through the mountain tops. He would protect that glorious form of hers. He remembered the pounding of his heart as he watched her spread her wings and breath holy fire across the skies. Samson closed his eyes and chanted, "Oh mighty Andraste, let us be reborn as you were-"

"Wrong answer."

The air constricted and a faint metallic smell wafted through the air, like fresh blood. The Warden yanked Samson's pinky backwards, splitting the bone and twisting it clean off. Samson howled and began to hyperventilate. If he were so lucky, he would pass out from the sheer pain. Wet blood dripped from his maimed hand onto the floor.

The Warden flicked the pinky into Samson's face, where it bounced off and fell onto the floor. "Are you from Haven?"

"Yes," croaked Samson. Maker forgive him. Samson sobbed as the unholy pain throbbed from his right hand.

"Next question. Is Brother Genitivi still in Haven?"

"Yes," answered Samson, tears still streaming down his bruised face.

"Final question." The Warden paused briefly. Slowly he clenched both of Samson's middle fingers with his gauntlets. "Is the Urn of Sacred Ashes in Haven?"

Samson trembled in his chair. Not this. He could not answer this, for the sake of his prophet Andraste. Samson closed his eyes and whispered, "No." Perhaps the man would believe him- after all, the Warden had been described as hero by the rumors- surely he would show mercy and believe him.

The Warden leaned in. Samson could discern nothing of them man through his helm. "Are you lying, Samson?" breathed the Warden.

"No! Please let me go, please! That's all I know! I swear!"

"Samson, I've lived amongst nobility. I know a liar when I see one." The Warden yanked the fingers backwards to the point where they almost broke. "Please don't…" sobbed Samson as he shook his head from side to side. His tears flung against the floor of the chamber.

"Crying are we? I saw what you did to Weylon. You tortured him for information to assume his identity. I'll do exactly what you did to him, and then in addition, I'll tear every single one of your fingers, toes, and limbs off."

The Warden tugged more at the bent fingers. Just a little bit more force, and the fingers would come clean off. Despite the Warden's threats, Samson wept, "Do...do your worst."

"You really don't want to see my worst." The Warden crushed Samson's fingers beneath his grip, then ripped the broken fingers off. The Warden's hand clamped down upon Samson's mouth as the tortured man wailed in utter agony again and again. Hot blood dripped down from his maimed hands everywhere.

The pain blurred Samson's vision. The world spun. As what little was left of his hands throbbed and bled, his eyes lay upon his tormenter- the dark armored figure that towered above him, with palms that dripped with scarlet blood. Father Kolgrim had told him stories of demons and monsters as a young child. Of the beasts that lurked in the shadows and whispered to men. Yet never before had Samson known terror like this. He had never yet met a monster until now.

"The Urn...the Urn is in Haven," sobbed Samson.

The Warden patted him on the shoulder. "Imagine that. The former torturer lasts the shortest under torture. Thanks for saving me some time." He drew a kitchen knife with his other hand, dulled from frequent use. The wooden handle barely held on. The Warden brandished the edge at Samson.

Samson's heart dropped. The man rattled in his chair, his eyes following the tip of the knife as the Warden approached. "Wait! I told you what you wanted. You promised to let me go! I promise not to do anything else!"

"Let's do some simple math. Several Redcliffe knights have gone missing around the Frostback mountains, near the area where Genitivi theorized where Haven is. Weylon was tortured and killed. Genitivi possibly shares the same fate. Whoever you people are, you are willing to do whatever it takes to keep your little secrets safe. You could kill again."

"Please, I have a-"

The Warden plunged his knife straight into the man's throat. Samson struggled beneath his bonds as the blood splurted out of his torn throat.

"I'm willing to dirty my hands if it means that another innocent doesn't have to suffer."

The last thing Samson saw was the Warden remove his helmet, and the cold, tired, sad eyes that lay beneath it.

* * *

"It was rather kind of you to scatter his ashes," said Zevran, while the two trotted on horseback back up the mountain path leading to Soldier's Peak.

The Warden glanced sideways at his companion. Aedan had wanted to travel alone. After all, he didn't need to waste time making camp as he didn't sleep much. However, Zevran had insisted on coming to visit the markets in Denerim, despite it only being a recon mission.

"I just took what was left in the chimney afterwards and threw it away," grunted Aedan, before taking a long swig from his flask. He gasped for air, cringing at the tasteless burn.

"I would have just dumped it in a well."

"Who dumps bodies in a well? That's where people drink out of."

"I sincerely hope you don't visit the Chantry in Denerim then."

Aedan grumbled beneath his breath. "Not that religious anyways." He whipped the reins of his horse again to hasten it. The horse galloped forward up the jagged hill. The entrance to Soldier's Peak as not well known, nor was it easy to navigate. On the one hand, Loghain would have a difficult time finding it, but on the other, it meant trips to the fortress were a hassle.

Aedan and Zevran entered into the courtyard on horseback. There they dismounted and handed off the horses to two of the Dryden children. The family was responsible for maintaining the Keep. Levi's merchant business had been bustling as of late, and had brought much commerce to the Peak. As far as Loghain knew, the Peak was simply a trading post, not the current base of the Grey Wardens. Merchants cycled in and out of the courtyard with such a wide variety of needs that Aedan managed to sell all the junk they collected on their travels. The keep prospered- all the better for the funding of Aedan's army.

* * *

Aedan sat alone in the former Warden-Commander's office. The Warden flicked his food with his fork and sighed. He wasn't hungry, and only now realized how much he had taken the concept of hunger for granted. Before he used to just eat till he was full, but without hunger to guage how he needed now he had to estimate he needed to eat. The regular joining, as Avernus had explained to him, bonded the darkspawn taint to the body in such an inefficient way that it required much more energy from the body then it actually needed. In Aedan's case, since this inefficiency had been fixed, he had lost this sense of hunger. Going from Grey Warden hunger to regular people hunger was a tough transition.

To top it off, His sense of taste was all but gone now. Aedan wasn't sure whether it was a side-effect of the mixture or something psychological. The warden grimaced and tried to force the food down his throat. To him the beef tasted of thick wet mushy paper, even though he could see how much effort Levi's wife put into the meal. How long had it been since he had properly tasted beef? Or pork? Or even simple bread? Months now. Aedan undid his flask to wash down the food; the booze made everything go down smoother. At least he still had that.

Avernus popped his wrinkled head through Aedan's door. "You should probably eat more."

"Concern? That's almost touching." The Warden placed the meat in his mouth and chewed. Per usual, it tasted like wet paper. He grimaced and swallowed the chunks down.

"What would I do if my prime test subject died?"

"Thus the  _almost_ touching," remarked Aedan with a roll of his eyes.

"I'd like to take another sample of your blood, if you don't mind." Avernus drew several vials. Aedan held his hand over a bucket, took out Nan's knife, and sliced the palm. "Careful not to cut your stitches."

Each time Aedan used the ability, it hurt and bled less. It was like muscle training; the more he broke down his body, the stronger it would become when it recovered. So he would do it in little steps, concentrate the taint in his arms and legs and let the power flow through there. Activating the power throughout his entire body is what led to his downfall with Flemeth. Aedan needed to control the power, not let it overrun him. Still, controlling the process proved difficult. Often times Aedan's old scars would open again. Avernus had stitched most of his scars shut to minimize future bleeding.

"Just so you know, your blood isn't going to waste." Avernus's hands glowed and the wound upon Aedan's hand sealed shut. Avernus produced several vials with a sickly green substance inside. "Inside these is an alchemical concoction that should help with the bleeding effect."

Aedan pulled out his spare bandages and wrapped them about his hand. He always kept bandages on hand now. "So you figured out how to fix it."

"Not exactly...this is the mixture I used to keep the people I experimented alive just a little longer. I've mixed in your blood to better suit it to your...unique condition. You'll still bleed, but you'll last a bit longer."

"Thanks. Anyways Avernus, I'd like you to head to Redcliffe, so we can meet you there with the Ashes."

"Why must I go help some petty Arl? Get some lesser mage to do it. I have research to do."

"We don't know how or what form this Urn of Sacred Ashes might take. Two hundred years of experience with dealing with curses and forbidden alchemy might give you a better perspective on it."

Avernus crossed his arms and scowled. Aedan sighed and rolled his eyes. "I'll give you this." He opened the desk drawer and handed Avernus a letter. "A letter stating you can have my body after I die for your research. Just promise me you'll burn what you don't use."

Avernus beamed at Aedan and clapped his hands together. "I will ensure that the burnt remains of your appendix scatters to the winds."

"The thought of it brings a tear to my eye." Aedan pocketed the vials in his knapsack. The door shut behind Avernus. After Aedan had finished his meal, he pulled out the map of Ferelden, spare parchment, ink, and a writing implement. He still had planning to do for his current troops, before he set off with his companions for Haven.

Red circles outlined where the current civil war battles raged on. Aedan grimaced as he thought of the soldiers, fighting under the orders of men they probably never met- the Bannorns and Loghain. No matter how hard they fought, it only resulted in more deaths of innocent Fereldan countrymen. He wondered how Loghain, who claimed to love Fereldan so, could simply slaughter his countrymen.

The current civil war hardly compared to the Orlesian war, but the fact that the various bannorns were fighting against Loghain and not together against the darkspawn had all but guaranteed the fate of the south. Lothering had been amongst the first villages in the south to fall, amongst others.

Loghain had put an embargo on all trading, communication, or visitors from the country of Orlais. Those caught consorting with the Orlesians were marked traitors. Loghain's original sin, the abandonment of his king, had spiraled out of control. To cover it up, he blamed the Fereldan Grey Wardens, and in doing so meant having to refuse the Orlesian Grey Wardens.

There were no more major political powers to speak save for Loghain. Arl Eamon was still ill. Howe had eliminated the Couslands, then launched his smear campaign against the dead family, claiming they had been consorting with the Orlesians. Aedan coldly traced the outline of Denerim with his finger as he contemplated how he might deal with Howe.

Aedan's finger fell upon Westholme. It had been awhile since Aedan had been there. He had never heard from Adair after the veteran had assigned him the task of investigating the village. Aedan grimaced as he noted the crossed out villages next to Westholme. All the surrounding villages had been devoured by the Blight. Aedan did not hold much hope for Westholme, nor for any survivors. Extraction would take too long. The soldiers might get there in time, but the darkspawn would have overrun the area by then. Aedan couldn't afford to lose more soldiers. The sensible villagers who fled lucked out.

The warden scribbled his message onto a sheet of parchment:

_Abandon Westholme. Concentrate on the villages farther north._

Aedan sealed the message up along with several other orders. It was a tough call, but the south was all but lost. He had no choice to abandon it. Soon the rest of Ferelden would follow. Before that time came, Aedan had no doubt the Archdemon would appear. It's monstrous roar bellowed louder than ever in his dreams. He estimated one, maybe two months, before the beast would come to finish off Ferelden.

_Just two more months._

Aedan grimaced and took another swig from his flask.

_Then it'll be over._

* * *

Morrigan once again caught herself looking for Aedan. It was a nasty habit that she had to drop. She needed to return to how she once was: uncaring, calm, and collected. She had gotten too close to him. One thing she missed was his company. She would not describe it as constantly entertaining, nor as boring. Instead, she had felt contentment.

Still, now that they no longer spent time together, Morrigan had lost that contentment and now needed a new way to spend her spare time. Her mother's true grimoire had taken a week to translate, and another week to master, thus leaving her with plenty of free time.

Morrigan leaned against the side of the hallway and sighed. What did she used to do to entertain herself? She used to shapeshift and run amongst the animals, but she was a child then. As she had grown older, so had her discontent in the Wilds. She had wanted to see mountains and all sorts of new things instead of the same old swamp. Thus she was exploring the ancient keep. It fascinated her- this old place full of history and touched by the fade. The residue of magic lingered in every corner.

The witch turned the corner to see some of her companions sitting in the pantry. "Oh, Morrigan," said Leliana, waving the witch over. The bard, the templar, and the qunari sat in the pantry munching on various breads and meats. Instinctively the witch began to turn around to avoid them, but her stomach at the site of food gave a embarrassing growl. The witch glanced at the food and grumbled. It had been awhile since she had eaten. Morrigan pulled over a chair and gnawed on a piece of bread.

"So...you and him, haven't seen you too together in awhile," said Alistair in an attempt to break the silence. The templar realized what he said and his face went pale. Clearly he shouldn't have been talking about such a sensitive topic.

"What about Aedan?" Morrigan continued to chew down on her food, not looking at any of the others.

"I didn't specify Aedan," said Alistair nervously, trying to salvage his earlier slip-up into a joke," I said 'you and him'. I could have meant you and Zevran. Or perhaps you and Sten. Maybe even you and Avernus- you're both mages, you could get along well."

"Has anyone ever told you how your jokes make them wish the Blight would kill them sooner?" sneered Morrigan.

"Number one, ouch. Number two, I thought things were going well between the two of you."

"Are we idle housewives gossiping while our husbands are away at work? I think not. We are both fine. It was simply a temporary arrangement of pleasure. That is all. I wish to talk no more of it."

Alistair acquiesced to her request and remained silent for several minutes. Finally Leliana broke the silence again by saying, "You have to agree that Aedan's been a little  _too_ into his work?"

"The Warden is performing more admirably than ever. He has found purpose," stated Sten. The other two turned to Sten in surprise. He rarely ever spoke up on his own.

"Admirably? All he does is train, manage troops, and help Avernus with his research," said Alistair.

"Exactly." The qunari dug his fork into his meat and cut it into tiny, exact pieces. He methodically put each piece one by one into his mouth, from left piece to right.

After no explanation whatsoever, Alistair sighed and asked. "Care to elaborate?"

The qunari waited until he was finished chewing before stating, "No."

"You just know I'm going to bother you until you tell me." Alistair poked the qunari in the rib. The qunari hid a sneer. The templar spoke the truth.

"In the Qun, we do not have farmers become warriors, nor warriors become farmers," explained Sten, "Each and every member has their purpose. There is no uncertainty in what one must do, only fulfillment. Aedan has found his purpose, and is devoting himself to it."

"Well, Aedan wasn't always a Grey Warden...in fact they recruited him less than a year ago. What was he before that?"

Leliana furrowed her brow in thought. "A soldier? He had to learn to fight somewhere."

"No, he doesn't fight like a soldier. Soldiers are trained to fight in coordination with other soldiers and don't adapt easily to new situations. The Warden is more flexible in his group arrangement. Perhaps a mercenary," remarked Sten.

"Maybe he was a farmer, Sten," said Alistair with a joking grin.

"I could believe that of you," the qunari shot back.

The templar slouched over his food and grumbled.

While the other three conversed, Morrigan silently mused on her own thoughts of the matter. She knew Aedan had been a noble. He mentioned family as well. In the elven ruins, he had been regretful of...something. Before however she could ponder any further, Morrigan cleared her head of the thoughts. Such frivolous things were unnecessary. Morrigan no longer needed to ponder on him. Love was a weakness, and she need not hold onto such a thing.

* * *

"Thank the Maker you didn't ask me to make those ridiculous shoulder pauldrons," heaved Mikhael as he dragged the rest of the armor out.

"Many Fereldan nobles have forgotten about practicality ever since the Orlesian war." Aedan tallied all the armor pieces whilst inspecting their quality. Aedan was doing final checks before the group head out for Haven. He shivered in the cold Ferelden air.

Despite the rhetoric of "ancient armor is better", Aedan found that the more recently forged, the better. Therefore he commissioned new modified armor from Mikhael Dryden, Levi's brother. Most armor, for example, was not designed with the intent of killing dragons. For one, they needed to be more mobile. Aedan had to reduce the weight of the armor, as well as make the pieces more modular for flexibility. He had based the designs off of what he remembered of the Grey Warden armor from Ostagar, as well records of the Nevarran dragon hunters.

In addition, Aedan had commissioned several barbed, hook-like daggers with a single hole for rope or wire to be strung through. One of the major concerns Aedan had about facing gigantic creatures was their increased mobility versus his group. The battle with Flemeth had given him insight into what a future battle with the Archdemon might be like. If the creature got airborne, it had the advantage. If all worked as plan, Aedan would hook the daggers into the dragon's wings and bind the other end of the rope into ground. While he did not believe the rope would last long, it would be enough to permanently damage the thin membrane that covered the wings if the dragon attempted to fly, and thus prevent further flight.

Aedan glanced at a pile of silver jewelry in the corner of Mikhail's workshop. "You make jewelry too?"

Mikhail shook his head and chuckled. "My wife always gets on me to make some to sell. You want some? It's all for women though."

Aedan picked up a silver necklace and rolled the chains about in his fingers. "Don't have someone to give a gift like that to."

Had it been love with Morrigan, or simple infatuation? The woman had not met his eyes nor talked to him in a month. Aedan knew he had been happy with her, but was being happy enough? Aedan was happy drinking scotch, eating a delicious meal, or sleeping in beneath a sunny window. Was his relationship with Morrigan simply something interchangeable with these things? Had the time spent with her been nothing more than a distraction from the void his family's loss left in him? Had Morrigan simply clung to the first person that treated her with respect and compassion, and not because it was Aedan? If it was something greater, then he would have gone after her, or her after him. Fear had outweighed it. Doubt had outweighed it. Whatever it had been, it was weak and uncertain.

Aedan tossed the necklace back into the pile.

* * *

_Aedan drowsily leaned back in his chair and sighed. He was bored. So very bored. Certainly, his newfound free time would afford him the chance to be with his family more, but his mother was away with Lady Landra, Nan was out at the market, Oren was busy in lessons, and his brother and father were managing the Highever's local government officials in the dining room._

_Aedan rolled over onto his stomach and let his arms hang off the back of the chair. Maybe he should read a book or something._

_"A messenger came by with a letter addressed for you," stated Ser Gilmore from the doorway. Aedan rolled back over and frowned. He usually never got mail. After walking over and retrieving the letter from Ser Gilmore, Aedan opened up the envelope to read the words within. His heart dropped._

_To Aedan,_

_My father is on his deathbed. The doctors think this is it._

_-Hijaya_

_The world blurred. Aedan's hands shook. He honestly couldn't remember how he got from the living room to the dining room. Had he ran? Had he walked? How long had it taken? He entered into the dining room, where his father and Fergus were busy chatting with some Arls. Aedan silently waved his father over. He noticed his father's expression drop. Had he noticed the sheer look of despair upon Aedan's face?_

_"Aedan, what happened? You don't look good."_

_Aedan quietly handed the letter to Bryce. As Bryce scanned the letter briefly, Aedan stated,"Father, I know you said that we needed to stay out of Denerim for awhile, but I need to go."_

_For the longest time, Bryce contemplated in silence, before saying,"Aedan, that man is still out there. I'm not going to let my son possibly get killed."_

_Without thinking, Aedan blurted out,"Adair isn't going to be an issue, he's somewhere else." His eyes widened at what he had just said. His father narrowed his eyes at Aedan's reaction and the single bead of sweat that dripped down his forehead._

_"Aedan, how do you know that?"_

_Now, pleading, Aedan didn't care what else he said. He needed to do whatever it took to see his friend one last time. "Father, I need to go...and Denerim will be safe. I've seen to that."_

_Bryce fell silent for what seemed like an eternity. "Alright Aedan, you can go," he whispered._

_"Good, then I'll-"_

_"But I'm coming with you." Bryce placed his hand on his son's shoulder. "And you're going to tell me everything you know."_

_Rarely had Aedan ever seen his father with such a serious expression. Aedan paused, gulped, and then answered solemnly, "Alright. I'll tell you everything."_


	49. Tired

The remains of the roasted deer remained by the crackling fire. Aedan gagged as he brought a piece close to his mouth. Without the taste, eating meat was an ordeal. He had to chew it so much, resulting in a mushy, cold feeling in his mouth that would stay for hours.

He had hunted down a nearby deer earlier and the others had eaten most of it. They had left however most of the right thigh for him. They still assumed that he ate as much as usual. Unsure what to do with the remainders, Aedan beckoned over Gregory. His loyal dog eagerly barreled over to Aedan, his tail wagging. Aedan smiled a little and waved the meat in front of his dog. The dog ran in circles in anticipation, with a little drool dripping from his mouth. Aedan tossed the meat up into the air, and his dog leapt up to catch it in his mouth. The two continued on like this for awhile, Aedan tossing roasted meat bits and Gregory devouring it, until there was only a small portion of the meat left. Satisfied, Gregory curled up near the fire and drifted off to sleep. Aedan looked upon the dog enviously. No matter how smart mabari were, the dog could not understand the magnitude of the Blight. Gregory could still eat and sleep without worry.

Aedan pulled apart the meat into tiny pieces, then placed it into a water-filled pot. Aedan could tolerate soup. At the worst, it tasted like warm water. He didn't like anything much in it in terms of vegetables or meat, as it felt like swallowing large chunks of medicinal herbs. He kept it simple.

Aedan watched the bubbling pot in silence, leaning his chin on one hand and stirring the pot with the other. With no one else around, Aedan could only hear the boiling water. The warden took a small handful of powder from a sack Avernus had given him and sprinkled it into the clear soup. The mage had shredded up various plants and materials that would provide Aedan with basic nutrition.

Bowl in hand, Aedan took his first sip. As expected, it tasted like hot water. Aedan tried his best to simply swallow the bits of deer and not chew on them. Aedan downed as much of the soup as he could until he could no longer take swallowing so much deer. He dumped the rest out into the ground; no doubt the medicinal mixture that Avernus had given to him would have tasted beyond foul, but Aedan would not be able to notice anyhow. He doubted that Avernus would have added unnecessary things like basil and parsley.

He was left with simply one small bowl, filled only with broth. As Aedan took a single sip, some of the soup spilled over onto his hand. His spine shivered. That feel of liquid running down his hand...felt so familiar. Aedan could smell blood where there was none.

Aedan couldn't shake the feeling of slick blood dripping down his hands. He slowed his breathing to calm himself. There were times when the littlest thing would trigger Aedan's memories. The sharp edge of a bowl reminding him of a sword slicing against him, or a flickering fire reminding him of the blazing battlefield. He would remember in his mind, and then slowly his body would remember, as it was now.

His muscles tensed, like a mabari preparing to leap at its attacker. The surface of his soup rippled as he clenched the bowl so hard in his hand that it shook. His eyes darted at the fire, the small campfire that suddenly seemed to blaze like a dragon's breath. Aedan could hear everything; the wind, the blaze of fire, the drums of the darkspawn as they marched, he had to listen to it all, because it was coming, why wouldn't it be coming, he had to get up and fight again and again and agai-

The bowl broke beneath his trembling grip and sliced him on his finger. Blood trickled down his fingers. That warm, familiar feeling, gliding down the side of his finger, dragged Aedan back into reality.

This is what actual blood feels like, he reminded himself. The other thing was just soup. Just soup. Aedan dabbed at the now cold soup that dripped down his arm. He flicked some droplets into the fire. It sizzled and died a little. He patted down his sweaty forehead, and had one, two, then three swigs from his flask to calm his nerves. He finished off the container and let the last few drops drip into his mouth.

Aedan looked over at the tents of others. They had to be haunted by their demons, how could they not? It however seemed inappropriate to bring up such painful memories. Aedan certainly had things he did not remember, and Zevran, being the only one who knew of his past, had the common courtesy not to talk about it. Aedan always avoided mentioning Duncan around Alistair, or Majorlaine around Leliana, or the fall of the Tower to Wynne. You keep these sort of things to yourself, thought Aedan, because if you cannot handle even the memory of a battle, how can you expect to handle the next one?

A familiar rumbling shook Aedan's seat. Shale had returned from her wandering. Ever since Caridin, the golem often spent time alone in silence, as though it was once again the statue from Honnleath.

"Warden, you do not sleep much, do you?" The golem did not choose to sit next to him; it did not need to after all.

Aedan answered by retrieving a bottle of whiskey from his bag, uncorking it, and taking a long swig. Shale grunted in agreement. The two watched the crackling fire in silence until Shale said quietly, "I miss sleeping."

Aedan blinked his eyes. Never had he heard the golem use the word "miss" in regards to her human life. "Really?"

"My memories are slowly returning, ever since Caridin. I can remember living in the Warrior Caste. We were not treated badly there. We had good beds, good food, and good company."

"Are you tired?"

"Not in the physical sense...but I am fatigued mentally. Everything is just one long day to me. There is something about slumber, that act of letting go and basking in it, which separates the days into tolerable lengths. I miss curling up in a blanket. I miss sleeping in on non-training days- but that is the only thing I miss, do you hear me?"

"I got you, Shale."

"I am a golem, and I greatly prefer it," repeated Shale as though convincing Aedan would convince herself.

"Yes."

"You are no golem. You are tired, but do not sleep. That does not make sense."

"No. Things make less and less sense as times goes by. You of all people should know that."

The golem watched as Aedan guzzled down another swig of booze. "Indeed."

* * *

After an hour of searching through the village of Haven, Sten's annoyance had reached a level Aedan had rarely seen, save for the times others teased him about his love for cookies. "Do you truly think we will find these...ashes here?" asked the qunari once again, "All I have seen so far are the practices of madmen." The qunari scowled about at the surroundings: at first glance, it was just another village. The group had gone about, trying to talk to anyone to gather information, but ironically all were as stone-faced and terse as the qunari.

Of course, the unsaid always revealed the truth. While attempting to bargain with the local shopkeeper, the group had discovered the dead bodies of several Redcliffe knights, as well as an altar with human blood.

"It's just a little bit of human sacrifice and crazy villagers trying to attack us," joked Alistair, but Sten glared at him unamused. Alistair shrugged his shoulder and turned his attentions elsewhere.

Sten turned back to Aedan."This is no joke. The Archdemon matches ever closer. The South is all but lost. Yet here we are looking for the ashes of a dead woman. In the time it takes us to follow through on this lead, could we not simply kill this Loghain and command his army?"

To this, Aedan replied, "To win the army, you have to play their little game of petty politics. This is not Qunari. Military strength alone does not mean you can take an army for your own. That already happened once with the Orlesians, I doubt Ferelden would appreciate us doing that. Perhaps with time we could kill Loghain and take the command of the army by force, but the time it takes to do that far exceeds the time to follow up on small lead. Even then, simply killing him doesn't guarantee the army will follow us."

Suspicious that such a thing would be overlooked by the Qunari, Aedan inquired, "You know, if you Qunari are seriously considering invading us, you need to rethink your strategy. You can accomplish far more in a country with a single well-placed politician than an entire army."

The gunari scoffed. "Yes...sometimes I forget such a necessity exists for cultures as unorganized as your own." Sten glanced over again at Alistair to make sure he was not listening. He leaned a little bit to closer to Aedan and softly said, "It is why the Qunari have spies placed throughout all countries."

"I wouldn't have thought the Qunari to have spies. You all seem very...forceful. No offense."

"There is a place for all in the Qun, not just my race. We have elves, humans, even dwarves. Our mission is absolute order and peace, and to accomplish this there is place for the weak and wily alongside the strong...like the elf. I personally do not understand such...machinations. I am simply a Sten."

"I am surprised you would reveal such information to me."

"I doubt that you have not guessed it already."

The two grunted at each other in amusement and shared a rare smile.

"You are a rare type of individual. Wily and strong. My travels through Ferelden were worth it to meet men like you. I have learned much."

"And you as well, Sten. Hopefully the Arishok will be pleased with-" Aedan bit his tongue to keep from talking any further. The mood soured between the two, and Sten returned to his usual silent behavior. Even Sten had personal things he did not wish to discuss: his sword. The Qunari had all but given up on ever finding it, and thus had no hope of ever returning to his homeland. Everyone had their sins to bear, and the two men walking side by side would rather not discuss theirs.

At the end of the path, what looked to be the main chantry lay attached directly to the mountains. It looked like any old Chantry, yet something about it irked Aedan. The way it was so secluded all the way in the mountains; how the cliffside's shadow shrouded the building in darkness. Aedan did not bother knocking on the Chantry doors, instead opting to pull aside the doors himself. Surprisingly they were unlocked; perhaps they had not expected their visitors to ever reach this point.

Inside, a congregation of villagers kneeled in silence while a robed man with an overflowing beard chanted.

"Holy Andraste, let us reborn in the fire as you were-" At the sound of the opening doors, the robed man looked up from his sermon. He frowned. "Visitors. I'd have thought the guards would have kept you out."

The interrupted congregation crooked their heads in the direction of Aedan. Some of them scooted backwards in their seats away from him; after all, he was an outsider. Others glared and moved to the edge of their seats, ready to pounce. Armored guards that stood beside the robed man now moved directly into Aedan's path.

"We don't like visitors here," he said, "I believe that you've had your share of Haven."

Aedan remained silent, assessing the threat that the people might hold. He quietly signaled the others with his hands to stay on the ready to kill the guards. He scratched his ear, then pointed at the man in the robes, then looked at Alistair. The templar nodded at his signal. Aedan suspected that the robed man might be a mage, like 'Weylon'. The warden never understood the mage's obsession with robes, considering that for men it was simply wearing a gigantic skirt.

Aedan smiled, albeit a little too much in order to hide his suspicions. "I'm sorry, and you are?"

The leader of the congregation stepped forward, his frown unchanging and his eyebrows now furrowing. "I am this town's revered father."

Leliana tilted her head to the side. "Did you say Revered Father? I would expect you to have a revered mother."

Although Leliana had meant no offense, the father glared at the bard. "I would not expect you outsiders to understand. Our village is...non-traditional. We are not bound by the rules of you foolish outsiders."

Leliana crossed her arms. "So I've seen." In the crook of her arms, hidden from sight, her dagger was already drawn.

The revered father gestured to the exit. "Are you here for a reason, strangers? Our congregation is very private, and we would prefer if we could continue on without interference."

As the villagers all started to stand up, their gazes blank, and as the guards started to approach, Oghren fingers itched against the haft of his axe. "Can we just kill the crazy people already?" muttered Oghren. Aedan halted Oghren with a wave of the hand. With a single glance at the dwarf, the red-haired warrior begrudgingly shut up.

"I'm real sorry about the intrusion," said Aedan, "I'm just looking for someone."

The revered father nodded at the guards. Now they stood face to face with the group, hands on their weapons. "There is nobody of note to be found here. Leave."

"Are you sure? He goes by Brother Genitivi."

The father and Aedan stared at one another, knowing that the next sentence would bring the battle.

Aedan smiled. "Weylon told me I could find him here."

A look of realization came across as the revered father understood what had happened to his follower. His face contorted in sheer rage.

"Sorry, he never did tell me his name," said Aedan coldly.

"Kill the heretics! Kill them all!" screamed the revered father, "AVENGE OUR FALLEN BROTHER!" Guards stormed out of hidden passage in the walls. They flowed endlessly from an underground stairway. Women, men, and children screamed as they fled from the church chambers out into the village. Aedan's group payed no attention to those fleeing, only to the armed warriors in front of them.

Aedan raised his shield. "You heard the man. Kill them all."

Lightning crackled at the revered father's fingertips. Alistair lept forward and outstretched his hand straight into the cone of lightning. An invisible shimmer about his fingers parted the sea of lightning.

Aedan, Sten, and Oghren lept into action, circling about Morrigan and Wynne. The two mages chanted beneath their breaths as bolts of elemental fury flew from their palms. Amidst the storm of magic, Zevran sneaked behind the archers and slit their throats. Their blood sprayed across the horde of brawling fighters. Shale slammed his fists into the ground again and again. The soldiers surrounding her stumbled onto their backs. Aedan and the other warriors slammed their blades into exposed necks of the soldiers.

Aedan rolled over on his side as a fireball flew over his face. He sprinted at the mage, swept at his legs, and drove his blade into his neck. The father's head rolled onto its side. The rest of the warriors scattered and fled back into the tunnels from which they came. Aedan could hear the screams of the congregation outside: no doubt they would bring help. He pointed to Sten and Shale. "Find something to barricade the doors." Aedan grabbed a bookshelf to blockade the door, when it slide against the wall, and somebody behind it rustled in movement.

"Who is that? Are you one of them?" croaked a voice from behind the wall. With a quick glance, Zevran saw the hidden lever nearby and pulled it. The wall slid away to reveal a malnourished bald man with a broken leg tied up in rope- no doubt the missing Genitivi. Aedan strode over to untie him.

"You can rest easy, Brother Genitivi. I'm Aedan, of the Grey Wardens."

"Thank the Maker. I thought...I thought they were going to interrogate me again."

Aedan grimaced at Genitivi's hands as he unbound them- most of the man's fingernails were missing. Wynne immediately got to work on Genitivi's leg. The brother grunted in thanks as he sat himself up.

"Weylon...I heard you outside talking about Weylon, is he alright?"

"He's dead. I'm sorry."

"Oh, Weylon," wailed Genitivi softly, "So young. And what of the knights sent to find me?"

"Dead as well."

Genitivi fell quiet. "So much bloodshed," he whispered, "all because of the misguided principles of the few."

They would have time for questions on the walk to the Urn. Aedan offered his hand to Genitivi to help him up. "I'm sorry for being so gruff, but time is of the essence, Brother Genitivi. We need to get the Urn- can you take us there?"

"I...yes...just let me catch my breath."

* * *

U _pon arriving in Denerim, his father had told him his explanation could wait. Time was short for Teharel. By now night had fallen, and Aedan however tired from the travelling and worry._

_Aedan made his way to the Alienage doors through the Denerim Market. His legs were conflicted- should he run as fast as he could to see Teharel? At the same time, Aedan didn't want to see him. Seeing him would cement the fact that Teharel would be dead within the day. He wanted to remember Teharel as his cranky old teacher, constantly berating Aedan and trying to pick a fight with him- but no man lived forever._

_The guards placed in front of the Alienage gate by now remembered Aedan by now, along with other nobles. It was not uncommon for some nobles to have a elven mistresses. It was their release from prim and proper noble life- a quick and dirty roll in the mud for fun. Aedan pondered as he walked through the gates: was I so different? He, who had spent so long cooped in the Cousland estates, had jumped at the opportunity to learn from a drunkard, violent, elf. His father no doubt could have paid for the best teacher money could buy, but Aedan chose Teharel instead._

_He is not some flight of fancy, thought Aedan, I have stood by him through thick and thin, just as he would for me, just as I will again this one last time. He is my friend._

_A more cowardly, or perhaps brighter, fellow would have opted not to take the back alleys of the Alienage to get where they were going. Homeless elves littered the piss-stained alley walls. Luckily they slept, and no robbers bothered him. Perhaps the sword by his side helped. If there was one thing the last year had taught him, is that he should carry a sword, or Maker forbid he have to fight with alcohol or a wooden plank again._

_He managed to make it to Teharel's apartment right as the rain started to fall. The droplets ran down his sweat slicked hair- partially from sweat, and partially from the humid Denerim summer. A red-eyed Hijaya greeted him at the door, wiping away at the corner of her eyes. The young elven woman tried her best to smile, but her downcast eyes and the shadows beneath them told Aedan all he needed to know._

_"Thank you for coming." Her words came out as barely a whisper._

_"How is he?"_

_"Not good."_

_Aedan's lip parted to say the words 'He'll be fine', but he knew better. A soft lie would do no good here. He smiled back at Hijaya and hugged her. The elf sniffled and returned the affection._

_Finally, Aedan turned to face his bedridden friend. The elderly elf stared back at him, a shadow of the man he had once been. He had lost much weight, and his skin and eyes had yellowed. Besides him were towels flecked with blood. Aedan handed him another towel. The elf's frail hands clasped onto the cloth and gently dabbed at his mouth._

_"Does it hurt?" asked Aedan. The young noble pulled over a stool._

_"Almost as bad as when my leg came off."_

_Aedan sat in silence as Teharel entered another bout of coughing. The baby upstairs began to wail at the noise. Hijaya rushed upstairs to comfort the child. She moved as though in a daze. Aedan had noticed the the bags under her eyes. No doubt taking care of her newborn and dying father had taken it's toll on her. Aedan had always offered to help her family out in terms of money, but Hijaya and Jarat had their pride- they would not accept money they had not rightfully earned. Aedan had to respect their wish to make it on their own._

_Once Teharel stopped coughing again, Aedan handed him another towel. "I'm sorry," he said._

_Teharel let out a long, pained groan. "I deserve this," he muttered, glancing to the side._

_"Don't say things like that."_

_His voice barely audible, Teharel croaked through his coughs, "I did terrible things, Aedan. You've probably read those documents by now. You know what I've done."_

_"It was for the greater good."_

_"I still shed the blood of innocents. No matter what reason you kill a person for, it still makes you a murderer."_

_Aedan didn't want his friend dying with so much guilt inside of him. "You've done a lot of good things, then and now," he said, trying to say something, anything, to cheer the man up._

_"It's not so simple...to wipe your slate clean. Doing good things doesn't erase your sins. You're stuck having to carry them forever."_

_A tear rolled down Teharel's cheek. Aedan had never seen the man cry._

_"I'm so tired, Aedan. Tired of dreaming of the men, women, and children I've killed. Tired of this old body filled with all my regret. Tired of all this pain. I just...I just want to go." His voice trembling and uncertain like a child, Teharel asked, "What do you think is going to happen to me...afterwards?"_

_Aedan's heart wavered as he spoke. "I honestly don't know, Teharel. Humans say the worthy go to the Maker's. The dwarves say their spirits return to the Stone. What do the elves say?"_

_"We used believe that before the Dread Wolf shut the gods away from, Falon'Din would guide the dead beyond into the Fade. After that...well, we had to make do with a staff and a twig, which got buried with us after we died."_

_"You believe that?"_

_Teharel shrugged and coughed up some more, "Not sure. Seen a guy blaze a man to death with his bare hands- anything's possible."_

_"I've never really thought about it," said Aedan, "In a kind world, I guess we'd go to join our loved ones in death. I imagine it as opening a door, and there sitting at a big dinner table are all the people who've gone before you."_

_"I guess all you really think about is food after all, you pig," smiled Teharel._

_"Shut up, asshole," smiled Aedan back._

_The two chuckled with one another, their foul-mouthed banter reminding them of better times. Their quiet laughter died. Teharel looked down and pondered for a moment. "In a kind world."_

_"In a kind world," repeated Aedan quietly._

_"You think this is a kind world?"_

_"Maybe not...but I think it's a world filled with kind people, like you."_

_The elf smiled sadly at his friend's reply. "Never change, Aedan." He grabbed at his blanket and pulled it over himself. "I think I've had enough for today, Hijaya. I'm going to sleep for the night." He gently closed his eyes and took a deep breath in._

_Hijaya rubbed her eyes eyes tiredly and turned to Aedan. "I'm sorry, we don't have a spare bed, but we do have a spare blanket. You're free to spend the night." She pulled out a spare ragged blanket from within her crooked drawers and handed it to Aedan._

_"Thank you," said Aedan. The young man situated himself by the window. He had always liked seeing the stars as he went to bed. Aedan lay his head down on the floor and stared up at the ceiling. From the corner of his eye, he could see Hijaya standing by Teharel and watching him._

_"Good night, dad."_

_"Good night, sweetheart. Love you."_

_"Love you too," whispered Hijaya. The woman glanced upstairs to where her baby was but hesitated to leave. Instead she pulled over a chair and sat by her father's side._

_"Do you want me to hold your hand as you go to sleep? Like when you were little?" coughed Teharel._

_Hijaya smiled a little. "That'd be nice."_

_As Aedan drifted off to sleep, laying on the dirty floor of the elven hovel, it reminded him of that blurry, hungover morning when he had first awoken to meet his grouchy old friend._

_The next morning, Aedan awoke to Hijaya clutching her father's limp hand, sobbing._

* * *

Moisture dripped from the cavern walls. The cold mountains outside had fostered ice cold cavern walls, but the flames of cultists and drakes produced enough heat to melt the icicles hanging above. Genitivi had gotten them into the main temple, and from there Aedan and his group had ventured deep into the caverns below. Group after group of cultists had attempted to assault them, but now their bodies lay bleeding in the tunnels behind them.

From what Aedan had seen of their attackers, they were not a cannibalistic cult. Granted, Aedan still wasn't sure whether or not they ate people, but it seemed they focused on worshipping the drakes and dragons. Aedan remembered his conversation with Avernus about dragon cults and how it might stabilize his ability- but that thought was stuffed in the back of his mind as he saw a rather large group approaching.

The man in front, clad in majestic ancient armor, shook with anger. "Halt now, stranger, and tell me why you slaughter my children!" He raised his hand and the cavern shook with his booming voice. Such a pity, thought Aedan, since this voice was well suited for the sermons of a Chantry. He did not slither like a scoundrel, nor sound scornful like the father they had encountered hours before. He had a solemn, brutal, resolute demeanor about him. This must be the leader of the cult, thought Aedan to himself.

"They're attacking us," explained Aedan, still gripping his sword, "and have shown themselves to be murderers and torturers of the innocent."

"You, along with these so called 'innocents', invaded our village. We warned you to leave, and you could have done so. Now you face the consequences."

"I'm trembling."

"Does this seem funny to you?"

"Does it look like I'm laughing?" snarled Aedan back. "Look, we nor the others came this village to harm you. We have only come here to save a good man, upon whom the fate of Fereldan hangs. Do not think that your village is safe from the Blight."

The cult leader raised his chin up and looked down upon Aedan from the jagged rocks he stood upon. He sheathed his axe, and his men followed. He waited in silence, until Aedan understood it to mean that he and his group should follow. Aedan sheathed his sword and the others followed. "I am Father Kolgrim. You are the Warden, are you not?"

"I am."

"Even we have heard much about you. They say you have fought demons and other mystical creatures alike."

"To kill the Archdemon, no foe will stand in my way, not even you. Move aside and allow us to retrieve the Ashes, and we shall be gone for good."

"The ashes, you are here for the ashes?" Kolgrim stroked his beard. He eyed the heavily armed Aedan. "Yes, yes, perhaps Andraste's greatest sinner can redeem himself and become her greatest champion."

"What are you talking about?"

"I speak of our prophet Andraste of course. She has been reborn."

Aedan and the rest shared a glance. "Reborn? You've seen this?"

"Indeed. She is even more beautiful than anything I could have imagined- so powerful and awe-inspiring." Kolgrim closed his eyes and imagined whatever it was he thought Andraste was now. Aedan saw the utter faith in the man's eyes and smile. He needed to tread carefully.

"But her rebirth is not yet complete. Still the remains of her mortal body shackle her from ascending to her final form." Kolgrim jumped down from the jagged rocks. The ground shook more than it should have for a man of his weight. Kolgrim smiled at Aedan. "Tell me, Warden, how would you like power? Power enough to kill an archdemon?"

Aedan leaned back and crossed his arms.

"I'm listening."


	50. Tombs

_Two alienage elves whispered to each other and watched the front entrance of the Alienage. "The Keeper will be here shortly to begin the ceremony."_

_"I didn't expect a Dalish Keeper to come out here. Seems rather unusual for a Alienage elf."_

_"Did you not know? Teharel used to be a Dalish warrior, and a very distinguished one. His clan might not be in the area, but any other clan would be obligated to perform his funeral rites."_

_"What do you think the Keeper will think about…"_

_The two elves huddled closer and whispered, "the shem?"_

_Their conversation, though quiet, still reached Aedan's ears. Aedan crossed his arms and stayed put against the wall. Hijaya and Jarat waited beside him beneath the little shade Hijaya's apartment afforded them. Hijaya shielded her eyes, puffy and red from crying, from the blistering sun. The summer heat beat down upon all those outside. On any other day, Aedan might enjoy such weather._

_A robed bald elf strode in the Alienage. He, unlike his Alienage brethren, stood up tall and straight. He walked slowly and in long steps, observing the squalor his brethren lived with a raised eyebrow. Once he reached the Alienage tree, he paused and held his hand up against it. He glanced upwards at the flourishing leaves and smiled. The elder of the Alienage greeted the Keeper with a handshake. The Keeper bowed his head quietly, clasped the elderly elf's hand with both of his, and smiled back. The elder pointed at Hijaya and the Keeper strode forward._

_"I am Zathrian. Though Teharel did not belong to my clan, he was still a very distinguished Dalish. His request for a traditional funeral is within his rights, I shall make sure your father is put to rest."_

_Hijaya smiled sadly and nodded her head in thanks. Zathrian glanced at Aedan with accusatory eyes. "Before we proceed, I would ask why a shemlen is here." He scowled at the young noble. "This is not some spectacle for you to watch. This is a funeral."_

_Aedan stared at him blankly. "I am here to mourn, the same as everyone else."_

_"Please Keeper, Aedan was my father's student- he asked that Aedan be one of those to dig the grave."_

_Zathrian bowed his head again. "If that is what the deceased wished, then I will not refuse. Such a role in the proceedings is an honor reserved for only the closest family and friends. I apologize."_

_"There is no need. If I were in your shoes, I would have viewed me with just as much suspicion."_

_"...I do not need to be patronized, human. Let us make haste. I apologize young lady, but my clan is moving location soon."_

_Aedan stepped back inside of the house. Teharel's body lay on the bed, wrapped in a rough canvas tarp. He and Hijaya's husband moved the body onto a rickety stretcher. From there, they proceeded out into the Alienage and down to the exit of Denerim. A line of Alienage elves followed them in finer clothing that was still slightly torn and dirtied._

_In contrast to its dirty, run down buildings, the forest near the Alienage grew with bustling saplings and lush green leaves. While certainly not as grand as a nobleman's garden, the forest had a serene beauty to it- nothing had been arranged, and there were no bright flowers of pink or yellow- only the deep green and oak brown. Away from chaos of the city, you could hear the breeze gently rustling the leaves._

_Near the edge of the forest, Zathrian stopped at a clearing. He pushed his foot down on the soil to test its firmness. Next he knelt down, took a pile of the dirt in his hands, and sniffed it. As he took a deep breath in, he let the dirt slowly sift through his fingers back onto the ground._

_"We shall plant it here."_

_Zathrian motioned to Aedan and the others to dig. He, Jarat, Hijaya, and several others dug a medium depth hole in the ground with shovels. The summer heat did not make their job easier. Sweat rolled down Aedan's neck and stained the back of his shirt._

_Once the hole had been dug, Aedan and the others took hold of Teharel's body. As Aedan gripped the canvas that his friend was wrapped in, he realized this was the first time he was handling a dead body. He hoped that it would be his last._

_The group gently hoisted the body down into the hole. Zathrian knelt down and lay a staff and branch atop Teharel's body._

_Once Aedan and the others had covered Teharel in a layer of dirt, Zathrian took a single seed from his pouch and placed in on the ground. Using his hands he shaped a small mouth around it. He stood back up and gripped his staff. Zathrian hummed indecipherable elven words under his breath as he sprinkled some powder onto the mound. He then took the end of his staff and circled it around the mound. Aedan felt the air constrict and staff glowed with faint green aura. The buds of the sapling peeked up from beneath the mound._

_"I have started your father on his journey. The rest is up to him. May he rest in peace."_

_Zathrian bowed his head before the sapling, as well as all the others. Hijaya let the tears drip down her face and soak into the soil. Pain swelled up behind Aedan's eyes. He wasn't sure if he wanted to cry. Aedan had not known such sadness in his life; he had never lost someone like this before. He rubbed his eyes to keep the tears from coming. Aedan looked sadly one last time at the sapling, then turned away._

* * *

"Do not tell me you are considering doing this."

Aedan turned to Leliana, who stared at him with indignant fury, her mouth tight-lipped and her body tensed, like a bow at the ready. "Depends," he answered.

"Depends on what? This is the Urn of Sacred Ashes! This is a relic of the Chantry, a symbol of hope for the people, a-"

"This is what they  _think_  is the Urn of Sacred Ashes. You've seen these people. They're crazy. They think a giant flying dragon is Andraste reborn. What if it turns out these "Ashes" is just a jar of dust? Or just the bones of some dragon they thought was Andraste before this new one? It wouldn't hurt to put dragon's blood in there."

Leliana frowned and took a deep breath to calm herself. "Tread carefully, Aedan," said Wynne with a firm grip on her staff. Instead of her usual sage tone, the faintest hints of a threat resonated in her words. Aedan eyed her grip, then looked back at Wynne.

"I make no decision lightly," he replied back. Wynne warily turned back to the path before him. What seemed like a simple grab and go now seemed to have become far more complicated. When no one was looking, Aedan took a swig from his flask- just enough to take the edge off of the stress. He didn't want to think about if he had to kill Wynne and Leliana over a misunderstanding. He licked his lips and sighed before taking another swig. Just one more. Just a little more.

Shale pushed aside the massive doors of the temple and the group entered. They all stared in wonderment at the interior; intricately decorated with fine carvings and marble. The temple within far exceeded what the caverns beneath would have suggested. This part of the mountains went untouched by the cultists.

Before a large door, an armored man with full beard and deep set eyes stared at them, leaning on his sword. His pupils glowed with an eerie energy.

"Greetings, pilgrims," he echoed, his voice rumbling through the chamber.

"You are the guardian of this temple I assume," asked Aedan. "Will you let us pass?"

"I am here to test those that would use the Urn," echoed the Guardian.

"Test? Like combat?"

"I am here to test the worthiness of an individual, and the strength of their resolve. No man or woman comes here without a purpose, but it is up to the Gauntlet to determine whether such a purpose is deserving of the Ashes."

No wonder the cultists couldn't get in here, thought Aedan. He doubted human sacrifice made the list of acceptable behaviors the Maker allowed. "If such a test would filter out the unworthy anyways, then why have the Ashes remained hidden for so long?"

"Originally, the people of Haven were known as the Disciples of Andraste. They were the ones who first brought her ashes and and built this temple in her honor, I among them. As the years went on, their children took on their job, and their children's children- but even in the greatest of light darkness can sprout.

"The dragon came. And for those who were simply taught to believe and protect in Andraste for so many years, the appearance of a mighty dragon at her doorsteps seemed to them a sign. The dragons are far more intelligent than meets the eye. Having almost been hunted to extinction by humans once before, they taskef their former enemies to protect their young from others. In exchange, the dragon allows them to feast upon a select few of their young and drink of their blood. A dragon's blood is a fearful thing.

"A man named Kolgrim spread his lies and filth throughout the village, killing those who did not share his beliefs."

Aedan grimaced and glanced backwards in the direction they had came. "So these people...which of them are cultists, and which are the original Disciples?"

"It is hard to tell. Some truly believe Kolgrim's words. Others simply follow out of fear." The guardian looked at Aedan solemnly. "Do you plan on killing them?" he asked with sadness in his echoing voice. Aedan scratched the side of his sword.

"If I have to kill them."

"You do not have to do anything. You want to do something."

"I don't want to kill them."

"Then you want something else."

"I want to make sure they don't kill anymore."

"Does that mean you have to kill them?"

"It is safer that way."

"So you will kill all of them?"

"...I'm not sure." On the one hand, the casualty count of the Disciples numbered only in the double digits. If the Guardian told the truth, then most, if not all, of these people did not know any better; they were raised believing that this was the way to live. They did not know better. If Aedan had not had his parents to teach him better, he would not have ended up as well off as he was. Still, if he had to kill them to save others, then he would.

"So you will kill with an unsure blade?"

Aedan clicked his tongue in irritation. "Enough of your word games, spirit. If you wish to judge me, then judge me. If you wish to punish me, then punish me- but if you are here to stand in my way, I suggest you move."

The guardian smiled at Aedan's statement, though it was a threat. "Such ferocity. You were not always like this. The path that led you here has been long and dark, filled with pain and regret, for every person here." The spirit passed his gaze over each and every member of Aedan's party. "I would ask you all a question before you enter."

The guardian did not wait for them to approve of his request. He turned first to the towering qunari. For once, Aedan saw a bead of sweat drip down the giant's forehead.

"To Sten, you came representing your face in Ferelden. By murdering an innocent family, do you believe you failed your people by allowing them to be seen in that light?"

The side of the qunari's mouth twitched. "I never said I did not fail."

Nodding in approval, the guardian then turned to the next companion. "To, Wynne, do you sometimes think that you have only become an arm of the chantry, spouting platitudes and lies to subdue the mages?"

Ever the wiser, Wynne crossed her arms and answered with terse smile, "You ask questions you know the answers to, spirit. I doubt myself sometimes, yes. Only a fool is sure of himself."

Next the guardian stepped forward and pressed his hand against the stone skin of the golem. He paused for a brief moment and closed his eyes. Once he opened them, he looked up at the golem. "To Shale, I cannot gleam much from you. Your's is a soul long lived and filled with pain. Your entire life is a test, and I greatly respect your endurance."

"No questions for me then? Lovely," retorted the golem.

"To Zevran, of all the people you have killed, do you regret the death of the woman called-"

"Yes, yes I do," interrupted Zevran quickly, with a sad stare in his eyes. "Let us not talk about it."

"To Oghren, you left your home for the surface and-"

"I'll save you some time spirit," snarled Oghren, "Yes, I wish I could have saved my family from Branka. Yes, I wish I could have stopped her from going. Yes, I wish I had been a better mate. And yes, I came to the surface because I'm barely a dwarf anymore. My honor is gone, my family is dead, my caste is erased, and I have nothing left to lose."

The Guardian paused briefly at the answer. Perhaps such honesty was unexpected. He turned to Leliana.

"To Leliana, you know that the Maker has left. He spoke only to Andraste. Do you believe yourself your equal?"

"I never said that, I-"

"In Orlais you were someone, here in Ferelden you were nothing but a simple sister. When you attempted to state your visions, the other in the cloister looked upon you with disapproval- but you reveled in the attention, however negative it was."

"What- that is not true!" stated Leliana indignantly. Her cheeks had gone slightly red. The guardian, finished with Leliana, turned to Morrigan.

"Daughter of Flemeth-"

Morrigan scowled and waved the guardian off. "Begone spirit, I will not play your games."

Without a shred of anger in his expression, the guardian moved next to Alistair. "Alistair, of the Grey Wardens, student of Duncan. You wonder what would have happened if you had been there on the battlefield, if you had taken the killing blow instead of him."

Alistair looked down at the ground and grimaced. "I do...it would have been better if he lived instead of me. He was the better Warden, and we would have been better off. But I can't change what's happened, can I?"

Now the guardian turned to Aedan. The warden swallowed. What question would this being ask? Of Orzammar? Of the werewolves?

"To the Warden- you have made countless decisions that have necessitated the sacrifice and suffering of others. Do you regret the path you have chosen?"

Aedan exhaled out a long, tired breath. "I am pained by them, but I would make those decisions and sacrifice those men and women all over again. I did what I had to."

"And what of the sacrifice that pains you the most? Of that fiery night in Highever? Knowing what was in store for them, do you believe you should have stayed with your pa-"

"I told you, spirit," growled Aedan, "that I am pained by them. I made the best decision I could that night." But as an afterthought, the Warden whispered quietly, "But there is not a day that goes by I do not wish I could have saved them."

The ancient man glanced at Aedan and nodded. "Enter pilgrims." The spirit faded away into nothingness, leaving an open doorway behind him. Each one of his companions warily entered into the chamber. Aedan glanced at each and everyone, at the anxious feeling of regret stirred up within them by their individual questions.

Aedan wondered on his companions regrets, particularly Alistair's. How would it have been different if Duncan had been by his side instead of the Templar? No doubt Duncan would have taken charge. He would have been the leader, the decision maker. He would have carried the heavy burden that Aedan felt crushing him. Would Duncan have felt so tired and unhappy carrying that weight, unlike Aedan? The Rivaini man had been hardened through countless battles. All Aedan had been was a noble, who simply stumbled into trouble and barely made it out.

Aedan tried to imagine his journey without Alistair. Though they had had their differences of late regarding Harrowmont, the man had always been with Aedan through thick and thin the last year. He tried to imagine his life without the templar's little quips. Perhaps Alistair never knew it, but those jokes always lightened Aedan's burdens. For just a brief moment he forgot that he was fighting, and instead he felt like he did with his brother, Fergus, and the rest of his family- like he was living.

But the time for jokes had ended.

* * *

Oghren snorted as he brushed off some dust from his armor. "So, riddles, a bridge, and some ghosts? I'm telling you, if this how your Maker tests the worthy, maybe I'll just up and convert."

Leliana glared down at the dwarf. "That's not funny."

"Oh, you're just mad because that Guardian fellow called you an attention seeker."

Leliana scowled and ignored the dwarf. As they entered the next chamber, Oghren shivered and yelped. "Strong scent. The lyrium here is stronger than anything I've ever encountered, and it keeps getting stronger towards the end of the temple. I don't know what we're going to find at the end here, but if it's been taking the brunt of this lyrium radiation, for all intents and purposes it could heal your Arl."

"Good," grunted Aedan, "We need this." He looked forwards down the dark hallway that lay before them. Unlit candles hung from alongside the ancient stone walls. At the end of the long hallway, Aedan could make out a solitary man, shrouded in the shadows of the chamber. The light of the candles lit up one by one as Aedan and the others passed by them.

Oghren clenched his axe between his two hands and growled, "Oi, I thought we were the only ones here."

Though much more light filled the chamber then before, Aedan still could not make out the man's face. He did not seem armored, like the Guardian or Kolgrim. Just to be safe, Aedan gripped his sword tight. "Maybe it's another-"

The final candle illuminated, revealing the man's face for all to see. Aedan's sword clattered to the ground as he stared slack-jawed.

"-ghost."

He looked much like Aedan, but with greying hair and wrinkles at the edge of his eyes. He smiled warmly at the sight of Aedan. That face- Aedan had almost forgotten that face. It had only been a year but he had almost forgotten it. The man smiled just the way Aedan remembered- full with his entire face, like he had just heard a good joke.

For the longest time, Bryce Cousland and Aedan Cousland stared back at one another.

Alistair tapped Aedan on the shoulder, "Aedan, who is that, he looks a lot like yo-"

"You think this is funny? Showing me this?" growled Aedan to the whatever forces inhabited the room. He turned his head back and forth, furiously searching for the Guardian. "Do my memories amuse you spirit? Do you like peering into my head that much?" He turned back to the specter before him. "Answer me!"

The specter of Bryce smiles. "You wanted to see me, pup."

"Do not call me that!" The inside of Aedan's helm rattled, taking him by surprise. He had not meant to shout so loudly. He strode towards the apparition. "He called me that.  _You_  are not him."

"I know you miss me so. I know you miss all of us so."

"Stop talking like you are him." His voice wavered. The spirit sounded so much like his father. Aedan wanted so much to believe that the specter before him truly was the man that had raised him. However, the spirit looked at Aedan and knew what he was thinking. It shook its head and said to him, "You carry so much regret and sorrow. Why can you not be happy?"

Aedan hesitated, and his voice quieted so the others could not hear him. For a moment, he once again a child before his father. His hands trembled. It was his face. Aedan knew it wasn't him, but it had been so long since he had seen that face. The ghost had that smile, that kind, warm smile.

He leaned into the spirit's ear and whispered, "I cannot sleep. I cannot enjoy food or any of the other pleasures life has. The battles I have been through haunt me when I do not fight. So what else is left for me to do but fight? At the very least, I can fight for someone else's happiness."

Bryce looked at his son sadly. "Then aren't you just running away from your own problems? You cannot simply ignore the feelings and burdens you carry by numbing yourself with battle. A man can only carry so many things, Aedan."

Aedan was tired, so very tired. He just wanted to lay down and sleep. He just wanted to go back to his bed in Highever and sleep and have supper with his family again. "Then what the hell am I supposed to do?" he asked meekly.

Bryce smiled and patted Aedan's arm. "Let go, pup."

The specter faded into dust. Aedan still felt a little warmth where the specter had patted him, even though it was physically impossible through his armor. Aedan stood there in silence, trembling. He kept looking at where the specter had been, hoping that it would reappear, for even one second more.

Alistair placed his hand on his friend's back."Aedan-"

Alistair's gesture broke Aedan's reverie and the warden instinctively brushed away the hand. "I don't want to talk about it," he whispered, "Please understand."

The group moved on quietly into the final chamber. There, at the end of the long room, stood an altar of Andraste, and at its feet lay the Urn. Wynne and Leliana stood breathless. Aedan strode forward and grumbled under his breath. "Let's get this damn thing and go-"

Fire erupted in front of him and Aedan leapt backwards and drew his sword. The shock sent his heart racing and he struggled to calm down as he pointed his sword at the fire. He took a few moments to take deep breaths in before he heard the booming voice of the Guardian from behind the wall.

"Cast off the trappings of the worldly life and cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit. King and slave, lord and beggar; be born anew in the Maker's sight."

"So by laid bare...do you mean naked?" shouted Aedan into the chamber. Aedan took the ensuing silence as a yes. "Just checking."

Zevran inched towards the blazing wall and held his hands before it. He skipped backwards at the intense heat. "That is fire."

"I can see that, Zevran."

"It is simply...are we really going to walk through that naked?" asked Zevran, scratching his head nervously.

Ignoring the assassin's reluctance, Aedan signaled to the rest and stated,"Wynne, Morrigan, prepare for the worst."

He and the others began to strip. The warriors unstrapped their armor and let it crash to the floor. Leather crinkled as the rogues unbuckled their form fitting outfits. The mages had it far easier- all they had to do was simply take of their cloth outfits.

Aedan did not like this. He had been naked and bare before, as a child taking baths, as a man with his lovers, but not like this, not after the fight with Flemeth. Ever since he had taken Avernus's mixture, his body would not heal properly. No one had seen how all his scars had reopened, and how many new ones he had made. No one had seen when he could not sleep in the Keep, and would then train in the basement at night until his body bled. No one had seen how Avernus had stitched his scars shut, leaving him looking like patch work.

He did not want to be laid bare, for anything to be revealed. To show weakness meant to acknowledge it, and to acknowledge it meant he had it. Aedan could not have weakness. He was the Warden. The Warden had to kill the Archdemon. That was who he needed to be.

Aedan proceeded to strip down naked whilst the others were as well. Perhaps while they attempted to strip as nonchalantly as possible, they would not notice him. Aedan pulled his shirt over his head and placed it by his armor. Taking a deep breath, Aedan quickly unwound the countless bandages that covered his body.

"Maker, what the hell happened to you, Aedan!"

Damn it Alistair, he thought. He turned backwards to see the rest of his companions glancing at him. Alistair gaped at him, horrified. Thick stitches and almost open wounds lined his back. They had not been done with thin, almost invisible fiber like most- Avernus had take thicker, higher strength fibers to make sure the wounds did not reopen. Former burns still remained scorched upon his back.

"It's nothing," muttered Aedan quietly as he pulled off his pants.

"Like hell it's nothing! Aedan, is this from Fle-"

"I said it's nothing. Now leave it," said Aedan, raising his voice. He saw Morrigan looking at him strangely, and turned away quickly before he could ascertain what emotion had befallen her face. He didn't care if it was worry or pity or whatever it was the witch felt. Of all people, he had not wanted Morrigan to see the stitches.

"Did he always have that many scars?" whispered Alistair to Morrigan. Rarely the templar would speak to the witch, but he knew she had been the one in charge of his healing.

"Not when Mother and I took you two in," replied Morrigan quietly, still staring at Aedan's scar covered back.

Naked and exposed, Aedan walked up to the wall of fire that blocked his way forward. Aedan did not fear this fire. He had faced far worse fires, and far worse enemies. He had been mauled by werewolves, barraged by demons, smashed by golems, and stabbed and sliced and wounded countless of times by darkspawn.

Aedan did not fear this fire. If there was one thing he feared, it would be the quiet moments after this where he would sit alone with his thoughts. He feared having to eat another tasteless meal with cold, hard to chew meat. He feared having to lay awake at night, tired but unable to sleep.

Aedan did not fear this fire.

He plunged straight through the fiery wall. Much to his surprise, it did not feel warm at all. He turned back to his companions, and through the wall they saw him nod once. Each and everyone followed him without questions through the fiery blaze.

Once everyone had lept through, the fire dissipated and the Guardian materialized from behind them. "You have proved yourself worthy, pilgrims. Take a pinch of the ashes, and know that the Maker blesses you on your journey." Despite the Guardian's humble smile, Aedan still did not feel rather comfortable standing around naked. He grabbed his clothing and hastily stuffed his legs through his underpants and trousers. Once his shirt was over his head, Aedan looked over at the altar of Andraste and made his way towards there.

Compared to the grander golden statues of the prophet housed in the Denerim chantry, this one seemed like it belonged from a smaller, poorer village as it was smaller and made from stone. Aedan liked the statue though. The craftsmen had made the face so lifelike, that if Andraste had existed, Aedan imagined her to look exactly as the statue. In the Denerim chantry, her face was too beautiful, too perfect. Someone had smoothed every wrinkle and given her perfect proportions. Yet this statue had chips and wrinkles and imperfections, as though the man who crafted it had the real woman's face in mind and sought to make it as she was, not as he wished her to be.

Even he was not a particularly religious man, Aedan still nodded once before the statue before proceeding up the steps. He saw from behind him Leliana and Wynne staring in reverence of the sight of the Urn.

He gingerly brushed his finger along the side of the Urn. If it was thousands of years old, Aedan could not tell.

As though on command, a breeze of wind turned his vision slightly to the right, where a small pouch lay upon the floor. Aedan gingerly took a pinch of the ashes and placed it into the pouch. The edges of his fingers tingled as though they were on fire, though it was a warm, soothing feeling. A little of the ashes lingered on his fingers. He gingerly flicked them back into the Urn. If it were any other dust, he would have wiped it off onto his clothing, but for some reason the Ashes felt as though they were as warm as another person themselves. Who knew- perhaps the spirit of Andraste did live on in them, or perhaps the lyrium had imbued it with such power.

Aedan felt the vial of dragon's blood within his pocket as he stored the ashes. If he did not corrupt the Ashes now, no doubt Kolgrim would come to kill them, along with his pet dragon. After all the cultists were dead, the ritual for imbuing the dragon's blood would be lost.

Even though Aedan had no proof that the Ashes would cure the Arl, he had to have faith it would. And if he had even an iota of faith in these Ashes, then he could not taint them. There would come a time where another good man might need to be healed. The dragon's blood could stabilize his newfound ability, but was he not going to die anyways? What use was more power to one man for a few more months, than whole lifetimes gained from the healing of men?

Perhaps if I could be saved from the Archdemon's death...no...even if I could be saved, I would still do this, thought Aedan, and not solely because I wish for other men to be healed. I will fight the Archdemon to the bitter end with everything I have. I will push my body to it's utmost limits so that with my dying breath both of us will fall. Then I can finally go home and sleep. That will be my reward.

As Aedan turned away from the altar with ashes in hand, he wondered something. If the Guardian could reach that deep into his mind, deep into his past, he had to have known Aedan met Kolgrim and considered the man's offer. He had to have known Aedan had the dragon's blood in his pocket the entire time. Despite all that, the Guardian said not a word and allowed Aedan near the Urn.

Aedan smirked at the small irony. Perhaps the spirit had faith in Aedan.


	51. Solitary

The first time the witch noticed Aedan could not sleep was after he killed Majorlaine. The cold had woken her. She peeked out of her tent to see where the sun was. Instead she saw Aedan stoking the fire alone. She thought nothing of it then.

The second time was after the elven ruins. She had seen him fall on his knees and vomit on the ground, disgusted by his own actions. Afterwords in the tent, he said very little and instead took her from behind, never facing her the entire time. Morrigan enjoyed it when Aedan got a little rough, but something was off that night. Was it how she felt as he left wordlessly as she lay panting on her side? Was it that faint smell of elven vodka, sharp and pungent, that lingered on his breath as he had breathed down her neck?

Ah, she thought, see. He is just like other men. This is simply sex- a way to release his pent up aggression and relieve his stress. He is just using me, and I him.

Little by little, Morrigan watched as Aedan slept less and less. After the night Harrowmont died, she did not see him sleep for two days. Each decision weighed heavier- but why should she talk about it to him? Clearly he wanted to keep it a secret, as he did the rest of his life. What was the point in prying if the man would not tell anything about himself? Words would not change what he had done or how felt.

Ah, she thought, see. He is just like other people. He has his secrets that he will not share, he has his own agenda. Even I do not dare share my greatest secrets.

Then came the night they had to kill Flemeth. She had heard him shout at the others and how he had stood up to defend her. He had acknowledged her secrets and disregarded their presence. The Archdemon, at least, was a threat known. With her mother, Aedan had no idea what he would face. He dared to face the unknown abyss for her.

Ah, she had thought, her hand hovering over her heart as something painful and sweet passed through it, perhaps he is not like other men. She felt the same fluttering pain as she later held her hands over Aedan's heart as he lay bandaged in her tent, cold and bloodied as a corpse. The only sign he still clung to life beat weakly against Morrigan palms. She could not bear it. She did not want to bear it.

It was far easier to push her feelings down, to not talk of the things she had seen or felt. It was far easier to push him away that night than to confront her own feelings- because it was a weakness, those feelings. They made you tremble, they made you smile and forget the looming danger, and they made the inevitable departure from each others lives that much more painful. To acknowledge the feelings meant that you had them, and if you had them then you were weak. And this was not a life were you could afford to be weak- for this was not a kind world.

Morrigan still felt that sickening pang in her heart as she watched Aedan take another swig from his flask. He barely ate food anymore. One time he had left his soup bowl afterwards laying by the fire, and the witch had taken a sip. It tasted terrible, like someone had mixed in dirt, plants, and burnt meat.

Morrigan looked away at the mountainside. She had always wanted to see the mountains- majestic natural wonders that touched the very edge of the sky. Morrigan could do nothing. She and Aedan had had stopped talking altogether. Though the mountain was much farther off, as Morrigan glanced back at Aedan, it did not seem like the farthest object in the distance.

* * *

Aedan put away his flask and wiped his mouth against the leather palm of his gauntlet. He savoured those soothing sips of alcohol- just enough to take the edge off. Maybe just one more, he thought as he brought the flask again to his mouth. Aedan shook the metal flask a little- he still had about half.

"I like the way you think, Warden. All these spirits and lyrium give me the creeps," grunted Oghren. The dwarf clutched at his own flask and guzzled down his booze with much noise.

That's not why you drink, thought Aedan, thinking back on the words Oghren had told the Guardian. Oghren had run from his failures and left behind the shattered ruins of his old life. There was no one here who knew him as the failure Oghren, or the husband of Branka, or any other former name. Oghren was running, just like him. Here's to you Oghren, he thought, your journey's going to be a hell of a lot longer than mine. Have fun.

Aedan gripped his sword as he saw the figures of Kolgrim and his armored men looming in the wide courtyard outside the temple. He didn't even try to hide his intentions as he drew his shield as well and motioned to his companions to arm themselves. Kolgrim nodded to his guardsmen, who raised their pikes at Aedan and the others. "Did you destroy the Ashes, stranger?" His voice was quiet but heavy.

"Something tells me you already know the answer," said Aedan with sword outstretched.

"Andraste has not yet ascended as she should, therefore the ashes were not destroyed. You have betrayed us." Kolgrim grimaced and stared back at Aedan.

Aedan remained silent. He took one long deep breath in, savouring the cold, fresh mountain air. The quiet right before a battle always calmed Aedan. The edges of his fingers tingled as he squeezed his sword tightly. Something about the impending battle made the few moments before all the more satisfying.

"Kill them," grunted Aedan.

Kolgrim smiled, revealing teeth stained with scarlet dragon's blood. "Fools."

Before Aedan could react, Kolgrim took the horn strapped to his side and bellowed into it. It's low, melodious cry was followed by an air shaking roar Aedan knew all too well. He had heard the cry a dozen times in his nightmares. The trees shook and a winged shadow fell over the group.

"Dragon!"

This was no nightmare though- Aedan did not fear his waking battles. He did not falter at the sight of the looming beast. In his mind he had imagined how to kill it a thousand times over.

Kolgrim lept at Aedan and swung his axe into his side. The tainted mixture in his blood activated instinctively as he swung upwards to parry. Even with the tainted strength within him, Aedan struggled beneath the force of Kolgrim's blow. Aedan's sword shook as he mustered up strength. With one quick shove, Kolgrim slid backwards against the snow upon the ground. The cultist leader cackled with his bloodstained smile.

"You. There's something in your blood. Different from the other Warden. Like me. I can smell it."

Alistair glanced over at Kolgrim as he spoke, yet had to turn back around to his own two opponents- a pair of tower shield bearing reavers. They brought their maces down with a righteous fury in their battlecries. Alistair yelped and lept backwards.

"You could have tasted our power, ascended to a higher existence, but instead you choose to crawl on the ground like insects!"

Blow after blow, Aedan slipped further backwards. He needed to act fast. Aedan slammed his shield against the oncoming Kolgrim, knocking him backwards for just a second. In that brief pause, what little restraint Aedan exercised on his ability from running rampant, he now released. He uncorked one of Avernus's vials and downed it.

The taint pulsed and pumped through his heart at an incredible rate. He felt impossibly hot, as though his insides boiled beneath his armour and the insides of his veins burned. Some of the scars on his back opened back up, and sizzling blood dripped down his skin. Despite Avernus's claim that the vial might help, Aedan felt exactly the same as during the fight with Flemeth, if not worse. Still, he thought while gritting his teeth, it had only been a theory. A small hope. He should have known better than to have hoped.

The overwhelming smell of blood filled the entire clearing. Another of Kolgrim's lackeys rushed at him. Aedan thrust his hand into the front half of the man's neck. With the sharp edges of his gauntlets Aedan crushed bone and flesh beneath his grip, while at the same time bringing his sword down upon another cultist. His blade cleaved right through his skull.

"How dare you harm my children!" screamed Kolgrim. Aedan rushed at Kolgrim. Kolgrim side stepped and slammed the butt of his axe into Aedan's back. Aedan stomped his feet into the ground and held his footing. His body twisted around and his muscles contracted. He swung back around like a twister. Their weapons collided, but Aedan's dwarven forged blade, propelled by his momentum and the power in his blood, smashed through Kolgrim's axe. His head pounding, Aedan slammed his shield against Kolgrim's forehead. The father staggered backwards in a daze. With quick lunge, Aedan drove his blade straight through Kolgrim's breast plate. Blood dripped from Kolgrim's mouth as he fell to the ground, gasping for air.

The ground rumbled behind him. Aedan whipped around to see the dragon leaping towards him. Aedan darted his eyes to the left- Alistair had killed one lieutenant but not the other. Aedan focused in on the man's throat, took a deep breath, and drew Nan's knife. He hurled the knife from far away. The sharp steel howled through the air as it slammed into the man's throat.

"It's on the ground- get those hooks in!" yelled Aedan at Alistair, the other Warden momentarily stunned at how quickly Aedan had dispatched the other man.

Aedan detached the hook and rope strapped to his left leg. He took the custom barbed nail that Mikhael had made, looped the rope through it, then slammed it into the rock mountain with his foot. The dragon barreled towards him, the scent of his blood drawing him in.

"Steady," he shouted to the others. Aedan clenched the hook in his hand and got into a running start. Sten, Alistair, Oghren, and Zevran too drove their nails in, behind the dragon out of it's sight.

"Steady..."

The dragon was no more than a few arms length from Aedan. It's scaly mouth opened to reveal rows of fanged teeth stained with blood. The beginnings of a fire festered at the root of it's throat. Water dripped from the snow beneath the dragon.

"Now!"

Aedan rocketed at the dragon. Just as it bellowed it's flames directly at him, Aedan slide on his side beneath her line of fire. The ice beneath him melted and water soaked into his armor as he slid too far. Aedan scrambled and drove his blade into the ground to stop himself. In that momentary window whilst she still breathed fire, Aedan lept upwards onto her main body, close to the base of her wings. Barrages of frost and magical energy hit the area of the wing closest to Aedan, making brittle the scales that covered the wing bones. With a roar, Aedan dug the hook straight into the exposed area of the wing.

He rolled off the dragon, looking backwards to see three other lengths of rope similarly attached to the dragon- Alistair and the others had done their job. The beast struggled beneath its bonds. As it's wings flapped about, the hooks ripped through the softer membrane of its wingspan. It shrieked in agony into the sky.

At the same time, the warriors were hacking at her legs. "Come on beastie!" roared Oghren in delight. Aedan could barely see the dwarf under the constant whirlwind of his battle axe. Aedan concentrated on keeping the dragon occupied- it's jaws constantly snapped at him and flame surrounded him on all fronts. Wynne and Morrigan put out the fires that surrounded him and often spread onto his body, but Aedan had to take care of the blunt blows. The dragon smashed it's head down upon, but Aedan met it's blow with his shield. With all of his tainted strength he dug his sword into the creature's neck and pinned it down on the ground. His body struggled to hold down the flailing neck and head.

The dragon's legs, bleeding and maimed, collapsed and the dragon crumpled to the ground. Aedan and the others barreled out of the way before the body crushed them. It's neck and head flailed about. Lightning pulsed between Morrigan's hands, then surged into the dragon's mouth. The electricity crackled in the monster's throat and it let out a blood curdling shriek of pure agony. Smoke arose from it's burning flesh. The dragon's head finally rested on the ground with only a few twitches of life left in it.

His vision blurred and Aedan caught his own footing. "I got the last one, someone else feel free to finish it off," said Aedan. Oghren eagerly barreled over to the dragon to repeatedly and unnecessarily bash its skull in over and over. Still panting, Aedan instead opted to sit down on a nearby rock and catch his breath. He hadn't noticed until now how tiring constant usage of his ability was. He undid his helm and let sweat drip from his forehead onto the ground. His limbs burned from fatigue, and though no blades had struck him, Aedan could feel the blood soaked into the cotton lining of his armor. He had overdid it with his usage of the tainted blood, and his lack of sleep certainly didn't help.

"ANDRASTE!"

The blood-soaked Kolgrim staggered back up and picked up his battle axe. He took frenzied breaths and roared like a rabid dog.

"How the-"

Aedan noticed that Kolgrim's wound had already begun to close back up, albeit only a little. Kolgrim clasped his hand to his side to keep the remainder of his insides from spilling out. Was this the power of a reaver?

"You killed her in all her beauty!" he sputtered, "Do you know what you have done-"

Annoyed, Aedan trudged over to the barely standing man. With a quick slice, Kolgrim's head rolled onto the ground, followed by his limp body. "Doubt you can come back from that," grunted Aedan. He leaned over the man's body and examined his chest wound. Even now, with the head removed, Kolgrim's chest still attempted to mend itself. Aedan took a spare vial and pocketed a sample of the man's blood. Aedan tossed his bag filled with empty vials to Zevran. "Get as much dragon blood as you can. It's valuable and could net us some good gold. Shale, yank as many scales as you can off of that dragon. We could make some good armour from that-"

"Father Kolgrim! NO!"

Aedan tiredly turned to see who interrupted him this time. The villagers and the rest of the cultist reavers Kolgrim had left behind now gathered on the mountainside. The bright burn of torches glinted off of the rusted pitchforks and shovels that thrust into the air. Countless villagers shouted expletives and curses at Aedan and his group. Aedan stepped away from the body as villagers threw trash and stones at him.

What looked like a commander of the troops stepped forward, clad in ceremonial armor stained with dried blood. "They killed Father Kolgrim! Do not let them get away!"

An elite group of reavers charged at Aedan group. Aedan lept and slammed his sword directly into one man's face. The body slide down the snowy hill, a trail of bone and brain staining the white. Sten cleaved his sword forward and took down three men. Oghren swing his axe downwards and split a man's skull in two. In a matter of seconds, ten men had been reduced to ten bloodied corpses. The villagers, in sharp contrast to their previous shouting, now trembled in silence. Aedan coldly regarded the remainder of the mob.

"Anybody else want to attack us? Are have you learnt your lesson?"

A single warrior strode to the front. He pointed his sword at them and declared, "Andraste will strike you down like she did the others. For we are the righteous." He clenched the sword between his hands and stared down Aedan with furious eyes.

"Pretty sure that was just you guys torturing and killing."

"That is why you cannot defeat Andraste. We are her arms and legs. You come here, invade our village, kill our leaders and maim the holy Andraste-"

" _Killed_. I  _killed_  your holy Andraste. Big difference. I think I'm going to make armor from her."

"Even now you mock us!" screamed the man, "You think yourself better than us? You have killed our innocent, and now we shall have our justice, just as we did to those Redcliffe knights!"

A woman emerged from the crowd and tugged on the man's arm. "Honey, please, just let them go-"

"Andraste guides me-"

"Look at Kolgrim and the others," his wife pleaded, now almost in tears. She tugger even harder on his arm, but fell over in the process. The man stood steady in his conviction, and stepped one towards Aedan.

"My brothers," said the man, raising his sword into the air, "rise and let us defeat them." Several warriors glanced at one another with doubt in their eyes, but still they rose to the man's battle cry.

Aedan raised his hand to keep his companions back.

"I want to set an example," he whispered.

The rallying man and a horde of others rushed at Aedan. Aedan let the smell of blood fill his helm as Avernus's ability activated. One man lept at him. Aedan grabbed him by the head and twisted all the way around, a sickening snap echoing. He parried another's blow and uppercut with his palm into the man's nose- propelling the cartilage directly into his brain and killing him. Another man swung a hammer at him, only for Aedan to catch his arm mid-strike, and proceed to twist it all the way around. Aedan grabbed him by the neck and squeezed tight, letting his gauntlets pierce through. The hammer dropped to the ground, the handle facing upwards. Aedan kicked the dying man backwards, then grabbed another and slammed his face into the upright handle of the hammer, sending the top straight through the back of the man's head.

Everything was a blur for Aedan. He needed to sleep. His body ached. He didn't didn't have the time or energy to care about the well-being of his attackers- no, his victims. He was the attacker. After all, around whom did the bodies gather?

Aedan spun around, looking for the next foe to take down, but spotted no one save for a lone, unmoving figure- the original instigator. Panting and dizzy, Aedan wanted so badly to collapse onto his knees and rest upon the ground. Yet he knew he had to stand tall. He saw the fear in the villagers eyes as they looked upon him and the bodies at his feet. Some had already fled to their houses. Good, he thought, remember me as a monster. I want you to remember the fear of death. Then this village will kill no more.

Yet despite Aedan's example, the original instigator had no fear in his eyes."I'll kill you, I'll fucking kill you," he screamed, spit flying from his mouth as he howled in indignation. It reminded Aedan of a rabid dog that needed to be put down. The man roared and charged. Aedan struck his fist directly into the solar plexus. Bone cracked beneath his blow, and the man crumbled. The man kay wheezing upon the ground. Aedan's shadow loomed over him. The warden look up expectantly at the crowd. No more raised their weapons, and none would dare step forward to help. Aedan pulled the heaving man up by his hair and held Nan's knife to his throat for all to see. The man's knees scraped against the snowy ground as he struggled to kick free. Aedan slammed his foot down on the man's flailing legs, and the man howled in agony.

"Do you see this?" shouted Aedan to the crowd of villagers, "This is what lays in the outside world. Power to kill your god ten times over."

One more death among hundreds...what difference does it make, thought Aedan. He placed the knife against the Nan's throat and applied only the slightest of pressure. A little drop of blood dribbles from the blade. Aedan wasn't sure whether it was from an earlier victim or his next.

Yes, this man would be an example. No one in the village would dare continue the cult if they knew the bloodshed to follow. Aedan would root out the rotten weeds and stomp them into the ground.

"Let me show you what happens if any of you think of continuing your little cult."

From behind him he could hear feet shifting forward- someone coming to stop him. Which one was it? Alistair? Leliana? Wynne? It didn't matter. This is what needed to be done. They would understand that. If this man's death will guarantee that this village be purified, then so be it.

It was just one more life.

"Father!" A little boy rushed to the front of the crowd. The man's wife gripped the boys wrist and pulled him backwards with a sharp tug. The boy struggled against his mother's restraint and began weeping.

The man's expression changed. Instead of fury, his contorted face softened as he stared out at his child. He gulped once. "Look away, pup," whispered the man beneath Aedan's knife.

* * *

_By now the sun was falling in the Alienage. The funeral party had gathered for a small wake outside Hijaya's apartment, but now they were dispersing. Nighttime in the Alienage was dangerous for anybody, even Aedan. The young man approached Hijaya who was cradling her baby underneath the shade. He nodded once at her, indicating he had to leave._

_"Thank you for everything," said Hijaya._

_Aedan gave her a lopsided smile."I should be thanking you. You and your family have given me so much."_

_"You saved my father and gave him an extra year to live. He got to see his grandchild because of you. That small amount of life is worth far more than any riches you could have given us," she replied. Aedan sheepishly scratched his head. He couldn't really say anything back to that._

_"Where are you off to now?" asked Hijaya as Aedan was about to head off._

_"For now...a village that it's better you don't know the name of."_

_"Ah," said Hijaya sadly, "My father's unfinished business."_

_Aedan laughed a little. "In a way it's more mine than his, considering that I've pissed off a good amount of people involved with this more than he did."_

_Hijaya chuckled back and patted Aedan on the shoulder. "Don't be a stranger, Aedan. Jarat, the baby, and I would love to see you again soon."_

_"Maybe someday," said Aedan, "I'll visit the Alienage again. I promise." Aedan gave Hijaya one last hug before dashing off into towards the gates of the Alienage._

_Outside the gate and near one of the exits of the city, his father awaited with a horse and carriage, his figure cloaked. They wanted to be discrete getting to where they needed to go._

_"Everything squared away?" asked Bryce, "More importantly, are you alright?"_

_"I'll be fine." Aedan threw his knapsack into the back of the wagon and hopped in alongside his father._

_"Alright, I've told the driver to take us to Westholme," said Bryce, who jumped in the back as well. He signaled to the horseman to set off. The wagon rocked against the bumpy roads near the Denerim gate. Bryce eased himself into his seat- as he got older, it was harder to just simply sit anywhere._

_Aedan lay back on one of the hay piles and looked out the opening into the starry night sky. He wondered if somewhere up there in the stars in another world Teharel was watching him. With all his heart, Aedan prayed his friend was. Aedan felt a slight pang in his chest as he fondly remembered his friend._

_Looking at the figure of his son, with his gaze towards the sky, Bryce could sense how tired his son was. His son was not one to talk much about how he felt. Bryce had always encouraged Aedan to talk to him or Eleanor about these sort of things, but Aedan had always been closed off. He always tried to solve things on his own. His brother, Fergus, was not like that. Perhaps Aedan, the second-born, felt the need to prove himself. Perhaps a life around politicians had made Aedan weary of sharing secrets with others. Whatever the reason, Bryce knew trying to pry his son right now was not the right decision. Aedan, despite the lack of expression on his face, was mourning. He could hide it all he wanted, but Bryce knew his son._

_"We can talk about the business regarding the village tomorrow," he said and patted Aedan on the back. "Get some sleep."_

_Aedan sadly smiled and closed his eyes."Good night, father."_

_Bryce smiled back and layed back on his own haypile. "Good night, pup."_

* * *

Aedan's world crashed with that single sentence. His grip trembled as he held the knife to the man's throat. He looked at the child and back at the father and back at the child again. He could hear someone breathing close behind him. Whoever had come to stop him had noticed his hesitation. Aedan sheathed his knife and pushed the quivering man back into the arms of his wife and child. "Just...just get out of here."

The man's wife sobbed as she clutched her husband tight. The son buried himself between the two, savouring the warmth of his parents. Aedan watched the scene sadly before turning away, taking a swig from his flask as he did so.

"See. Look as the coward slinks away. He will get what's coming to him," seethed the man with his child in his arms. Aedan stopped, his fist clenching around his flask. He finished off what little remained of it and stuffed it back into his belt.

Aedan squatted down and got on eye level with the man. He did not try to grab him, nor drew a weapon. Fear kept the man in place as Aedan cocked his head to the side and stared at him with infinitely tired eyes. "Is that a threat?" he asked wearily. The man struggled against the anger inside of him- the sides of his mouth twitched as he held his tongue.

"I am directly responsible for the deaths of thousands of men. Your village is nothing. If I ever, ever hear that your village even harms another soul, then I will come here alone, unarmed. And will slaughter you like you slaughtered the countless innocents to hide this place. I will break your bones. I will burn your houses. I will make you watch as one by one I kill everything you ever loved. "

A twisted, sad, tired, maniacal smile cracked across Aedan's face, like the one Flemeth had. He laughed a little as he stared the man right into the eyes.

"But I won't kill all of you, no, I'll leave you. Just you. You will be left alone. Your family, your pretty little wife and child, will be slaughtered in front of your eyes. Do you want to know what that's like? I'll fucking tell you. You will wish that you had just died that day along with everyone you ever loved, you wish you had not been left alone in a world unknown. Everyday-"

The man trembled and glanced away, but Aedan grabbed the man's face and squeezed it in a death vice. He forced the man's face back towards his own. His fingernails dug into the man's cheeks and blood dribbled down onto the snow. "Listen to me when I am talking to you," he seethed before continuing.

"And if you're lucky you'll still be able to cry yourself to sleep hungry and…"

Aedan trailed off, his voice becoming a mere whisper. He drew the man's ear closer to his mouth.

"If you're lucky you can just die early, because the doubt and the guilt and regret will eat away at you until there is nothing left...so guess what? now it's your responsibility. You get to carry that heavy weight of people's lives on your back. If I hear another person is killed by your village, I will come back and kill everyone but you. And I want you to know that I wouldn't have come back if not for your little outburst- so remember that it's your fault. It's your responsibility to carry. You get to keep your little village in control."

Aedan stood back up on his feet and kicked the man backwards onto his back. Aedan resisted the urge to break anymore limbs.

"You get to choose- the responsibility for people's lives, or the regret of losing everything you love. Pray to whatever Maker you worship you don't have to carry both."

The man nodded in a daze as his wife clutched his back sobbing. Aedan looked over at his companions standing in the snow. His fellow warden stood apart from the others in the front. From behind Alistair, Aedan could see the path of frantic footsteps the templar had taken as he had rushed to stop Aedan. Aedan looked at him wordlessly, then turned away and downed the rest of his flask.


	52. Leap

The cold wind hit Aedan first before the others, and he shivered inside his metal armor. Aedan led the group on horseback, where he could see none of them nor hear their whispers. Instead, he traveled with his new favorite companion: whiskey. Aedan took another swig from his recently refilled flask as the cold wind buffered against him again. The cold had begun to seep into his bones, and he needed some more heat in his system.

Wynne trotted up beside him on her own horse. She had the look on her face- that stern, lecturing look that reminded Aedan a bit of his own mother. Right now however he did not want to be reminded of his family. He didn't want to think about what they might think of who he had become.

"I'm not going to apologize for what I did, if that's what you're wondering," he preemptively shot out.

Despite her stern face, Wynne's voice had a soft, worried tone to it as she said, "Aedan, you nearly killed that man in front of his son."

"We've killed countless fathers and sons. Besides, I didn't do it, so no harm done." Aedan took another swig from his flask.

Wynne watched as Aedan gulped down his liquor."How much have you had to drink?"

"Not enough for this," muttered Aedan rather snidely. He patted his horse his thanks. If he wasn't riding it, Aedan wasn't sure he'd be able to walk in a straight line.

"This isn't about what you did, it's this self-destructive behavior of yours. Why do you have so many stitches?" Wynne tried to reach over and grab at an exposed area of skin around Aedan's elbow. The warden swatted away her arm and made a mental note to make new armor. The warden armor he had gotten from Soldier's Keep was falling apart- simple steel did no good against the strange enemies Aedan faced. Perhaps he would take what he had taunted the village with earlier seriously and make new armor from the dragon.

Noting Wynne's hurt look as she gently clutched the hand Aedan had swatted away, Aedan replied with a gentler voice, "I do what I do to stop this blight."

"So that means drinking and abusing your body till you die?" asked the older woman.

Aedan growled once and glared at Wynne, "People keep telling me they can't believe what we've done, and it's true. If we were not here, Wynne, then Ferelden would be gone within the month. The South is already lost. I've had to tell the soldiers to abandon any sort of rescue attempt. All the other countries are just waiting for us to die. Orlais is more than willing to pick up the pieces of our ravaged country.

"Blights last decades, the longest lasted centuries- but we could end this in one more month. We're poised to have the largest, most unified army to take down the Archdemon. We've killed two dragons, a pride demon, an army of golems, werewolves, mages, and Maker knows what else- we can kill the Archdemon now. But you think that opportunity comes without some sort of sacrifice? You died at the tower, Wynne, I'd expect you to understand. I am ready to sacrifice everything about myself in order to stop this Blight."

Wynne stewed over Aedan's comment. "There is a difference between sacrifice and self-destructive behavior."

"I know that," muttered Aedan drunkenly. At long last the booze was starting to hit him good. His body felt warm and the edge taken off his mind. He sighed in relief and leaned his head back towards the sky.

"If you know that, then why do you continue?"

"I am alive for one reason, Wynne. To kill the Archdemon."

The mage paused and considered the implications of her next question very carefully."And when that reason is fulfilled?" she asked. Her hands clutched the reins of her horse tighter as she watched Aedan's dead unchanging expression. Aedan did not answer and whipped the reins of his horse to gallop up ahead.

* * *

Isolde fidgeted above Eamon's slumbering body. Her son Connor leaned on the bed and peered close at his father's face. Aedan stayed outside in the hallway, and couldn't get a good look at the man from behind the various people that surrounded him. Alistair stood in the doorway and watched the scene unfold. The mage's hands, powered by the Ashes, glowed with a brilliant light different from any Aedan had seen. At first glance it was blindingly bright, but the longer you looked into it, the more gentle it's rays seemed.

You could tell who the man's family was, thought Aedan. There were those in the room who looked only at the light, and those who looked at Eamon himself. Of those in the room, only Isolde, Connor, Teagan, and Alistair kept their eyes on Eamon at all times. Although Aedan did not envy Eamon having to deal with the death and destruction wrought while he slumbered, he did envy that he would still wake up to his family- his wife, his son, and his brother.

Perhaps he might be glad to see Alistair as well. Eamon had taken the boy in and helped raise him, and even when Alistair was shipped off to the templars at such a young age, Eamon had still visited every so often. Alistair often spoke of regret of how he had treated the good-natured Eamon when he was younger.

Eamon's face twitched and his eyes fluttered. Isolde covered her mouth as her tears streamed down her face. Alistair smiled uncertainly while he hesitated to step inside. After some thought, he turned to leave, but felt Aedan push against his back and force him through the door.

"Aedan-"

"You should be in there," said Aedan, looking not into Alistair's eyes but at the radiant scene of joy unfolding before them. "You're his family after all... Tell him I'll be out on the balcony whenever he's ready."

Aedan turned his back his fellow warden and shuffled off into the hallway alone. Sighing, Aedan wondered how his conversation with Eamon would go. Surely the man would recognize him- a man as important as Eamon had kept close relations with a man as important as Bryce Cousland.

An young maid tried to squeeze past Aedan's armored form unnoticed. Aedan turned to her and said, "Oi, you."

The maid halted in her path and stuttered, "Yes m'lord, Warden, ser, I mean-"

"Warden is fine," grunted Aedan.

"Yes m'lord?" squeaked the maid, despite Aedan's previous statement. Aedan scoffed internally. It had been quite some time since someone called him a lord.

"Get me something strong."

After the maid had rushed to get him a drink and hastily returned, Aedan leaned out against the railing of a nearby balcony. He waited and watched the night sky. It would have at least been interesting if the stars had been out, but instead grey clouds blighted out the stars and moon. Aedan passed the next hour alone staring at the clouds as they floated lazily by. He sipped on his drink, letting the hazy feel of the drink wash over his mind.

Down the hallway he could hear footsteps. No clink of armor, and slightly heavier than a servant. Aedan had to mentally remind himself that it was not a threat coming from behind. The footsteps were slow and dragged against the floor each time for half a second. No doubt Eamon, struggling to walk after so long.

"So you must be the Grey Warden everyone's been telling me about. They mentioned your name- Aedan was it? I once knew a Aedan-"

The warden turned around. Eamon nearly dropped his glass as his mouth gaped. Aedan got his first good look at Eamon since several years ago. Several months in a coma left Eamon's shirt, weaved from thick Ferelden wool, baggy and ill-fitting. Aedan peered at the older man's shocked eyes, the crow's feet beneath them, and the pasty white skin.

"Good to see you again too, Eamon," greeted Aedan coldly.

Eamon stepped in closer onto the balcony. He never took his gaze off his Aedan's face, his mouth still slightly agape. "It's you. They said you were dead." Aedan noticed Eamon frown as he looked upon one particular scar on Aedan's face- it ran from the bottom of his cheek down his neck, from when a darkspawn had gotten a lucky hit on him.

"Maker, you look like you've aged five years…How are you still alive? How did you become a Grey Warden?"

"Duncan, the Warden-Commander, helped me escape the night Howe attacked in exchange for becoming a Grey Warden. As for all the other circumstances-" Aedan took a extra large sip from his glass and sighed. "Let's just chalk that up to hard work, shall we?"

Eamon grimaced whilst he struggled to find his next words. Aedan did not interrupt- it was common courtesy to express sympathy for something like this. Aedan didn't like the sympathy though. He understood that weren't pitying him, nor looking down upon him- they were just trying to make him feel better. He didn't however want, not need, their words. He didn't want to think about it- he could get by most days simply blocking out the memory of his family. But Aedan knew the Eamon's courtesy would come, and waited to accept it.

"Aedan, I am so sorry about your family," stated Eamon "Bryce and Eleanor were dear friends of mine." Eamon stepped closer and clasped Aedan on the shoulder. The sudden movement took Aedan by surprise, but Aedan stayed his sword arm.

"I swear to you Howe will see justice."

Aedan blinked. The Blight had occupied his every waking thought for so long that he actually hadn't thought about the treacherous Howe. His hands trembled as the image of Howe hanging from the gallows flashed through his mind. The edges of his mouth twitched. No, that wasn't good enough. Perhaps the man in Haven had not deserved to die, but Howe...Howe deserved something worse, and Aedan would give it to him. An execution would be too kind.

Suddenly remembering he was still in a conversation, Aedan responded, "Thank you, but let's get down to business." Eamon pursed his lips in confusion at the quick turnover in topics. He took his hand from Aedan's shoulder. "The Landsmeet," stated Aedan, "We need to call it."

"Yes, Alistair caught me up with much of your exploits. I have already had the messengers sent out. It should take several weeks for all the nobles to arrive." Eamon looked over the balcony at the village beneath him. Despite the destruction the undead had wrought, the fishing village was now filled with lights and fixed houses, with the townspeople clamoring about in the townsquare. No doubt news of their Arl's revival had reached them.

"They are lucky," mused Eamon, "They have not yet seen the Blight's touch. How is the south? The darkspawn started at Ostagar."

The lights and life of Redcliffe contrasted with the memory of the southern lands that Aedan still held. "It is lost," he said, remembering the blighted lands that he and Alistair had scouted out for survivors not more than a month ago. They didn't even have time to burn the corpses before the darkspawn had sensed them and forced them to flee.

Eamon grimaced as he imagined the devastation. "Maker, those poor people."

"We'll stop this, Eamon," reassured Aedan as he stared out at the sparse lights beneath him. "I won't see my country die."

"I've heard as much. Ser Perth tells me you already have an army."

Aedan nodded, albeit reluctantly. He would not hide the truth of the matter from Eamon."We have the semblance of one, but we need the Fereldan army as the backbone. Without numbers, we cannot hope to stand against the brunt of the horde. I need the Landsmeet to go in our favor."

"For that, Aedan, I'll need you by my side during the Landsmeet."

Aedan gulped once nervously. "In Denerim."

Sensing Aedan's hesitation, Eamon asked, "Have you not been back since?"

"I have, but not in the open. Only cloaked and scurrying about like some criminal." Aedan sighed. "Can I simply leave the politics to you? I am afraid I may have lost some of my...tact." Indeed, Aedan had found it far easier to stick swords in his enemies than weaving words to navigate the political landscape. At the very least I am thankful, thought Aedan, that it is not Orlesian internal politics I have to deal with. Maker help the Orlesians if Ferelden failed.

Eamon smiled sadly. He stroked his greying beard and thought of a better time when Loghain had been his friend, not the man he had become."The Ferelden people...do you understand why they follow Loghain? He is their hero. The man who led them out of oppression and saved our country. The common man risen to nobility. He is a symbol that the common Fereldan will follow with blind faith.

"Do you know what Isolde told me before I met you today? I asked her to tell about this Grey Warden who traveled with Alistair. She called you 'The Warden', as though it were a title. She told me all the things you have accomplished. You saved the Circle, the elves, Orzammar, and my people. You stand at the head of the greatest army Ferelden has ever seen. The people need to see a symbol. They need a hero."

Aedan laughed bitterly and finished off his drink. It almost sounded like the stories his parents would read to him. The mighty hero came, united the lands, and sacrificed himself to kill the evil dragon. He had always thought the ending was sad when he was younger, but he wasn't so sure anymore.

Placing his glass on the balcony railing, Aedan exhaled slowly as he gathered his response."Fine then," he breathed, "Let's give Denerim a show, shall we?"

"I will see you in the morning, Aedan. We can talk about the specifics of the Landsmeet later, but right now get some rest. We have some guest rooms that you and your friends can stay in."

* * *

If another maid came by and asked her if she wanted 'better clothes', Morrigan would set this entire castle on fire. She scowled as the latest one to ask her left.

Morrigan sat alone on the bed, observing her strange, foreign surroundings. She had never stayed in a room filled with such luxuries. Her golden mirror, tucked away in her bag, almost paled in comparison to some of the decorations in the guest room. All the furniture was intricately carved from a dark rosewood, accented by the dark red velvet that covered much of the bedding and seats. The king-sized bed seemed like a vast ocean spread out in front of her- Morrigan had no idea what to do with such a large bed. She was used to her itchy, small bed roll or the rough old cotton of Flemeth's bedding. She poked at the plush blankets, watching her ringer sink into it.

A knock on the door broke her train of thoughts. I swear, thought Morrigan, it better not be the maids. Instead, the least likely person she would ever think would come visit walked through the door.

"Morrigan, can I talk to you?" asked Alistair. He hesitated at first to step through the doorway, but after a second made up his mind and stepped inside while shutting the door.

Morrigan lay on the sofa: it was smaller than the bed, and more akin to her bedroll. "This is rather unusual." She stared up at the ceiling, choosing not to make eye contact with the templar. Their one on one conversations were brief and always related to the Blight or battle.

"It's about Aedan."

Morrigan bit her lip and glanced at Alistair.

"Morrigan, you had to have noticed it. The entire time at the village, he's been off. That man in the temple, Kolgrim talking about his blood, and then… he nearly killed that man in front of his child. Then he just drank the entire way back."

Morrigan remained silent. She gulped once as that familiar pain welled up in her chest. The words hovered on her tongue to tell Alistair to shut up, but at the same time the words would not leave her mouth.

"He doesn't sleep, you have to know this. He tries his best to hide it, but I know. Ever since Orzammar, ever since he let House Harrowmont die, he's almost never I have nightmares, Morrigan, and it's not just about the Archdemon, but I still get sleep. I still eat. But Aedan, I don't know what he's running on. I barely see him eat with us."

Alistair paused again, waiting for an answer from Morrigan. He looked at her and from her downcast eyes he could tell she was listening. The templar knew she failed to respond not out of ambivalence but anxiety- so he continued.

"Did I ever tell you what Duncan told me about him? We were sitting in camp together just after Aedan had arrived. While Aedan was putting his dog in the kennel, Duncan walked up to me and told me… told me that Aedan had just been something very traumatic and utterly tragic. Before Duncan could tell me what was, I was told to deliver a message to the mages, and that Aedan would find me later."

"And as I'm walking later, I think to myself, what do I say to this guy? This guy who apparently has been through hell? And I'm standing there right after the mage storms off and there he is, Aedan. And he's trying his best to look normal. But the thing about knowing what someone's been through is that you can see the cracks in their visage. I could see it, those tired, dead eyes, that fake half-smile. And I don't know what to say. Do I say 'Hey heard something real bad happened to you and I'm terribly sorry even though I don't know what I'm sorry about'? And before I can even think, I spit out a joke. This terrible, inappropriate joke about how the Blight brings people together. Maker, the man could have had his entire family slaughtered by darkspawn! And I'm kicking myself mentally over and over when all of a sudden he laughs and smiles a real smile. And for a moment I see the true Aedan, the one you and I both care for, and he jokes back 'like a tea party?'

"So all through his Joining, I try as hard as I can to lighten him up, tell as many jokes as I can, because that's all I know how to do. He's carrying something heavy and all I know what to do is make him forget his burdens a little.

"Then Ostagar happens. And you saw me- despondent with no hope. I didn't know what to do, but Aedan was there at my side. He never had to say it, but he took the lead when I wouldn't. I was too wrapped up in my sorrow. Thank the Maker he did because I don't think I could have handled all the burdens of leadership along with the grief of Ostagar. And in my grief I forgot- I forgot that Aedan was carrying something too. It was easier to lean on him. He seemed invincible, like something out of a story, like he could carry any burden that came his way. We all did. Without him, our group wouldn't have stayed together, much less have worked together. How could it seem like he was carrying any worries, when he was helping so many? Aedan was there to listen about my worries with my heritage and Duncan. He saved Leliana from Majorlaine, found Wynne's former pupil- but deep down I knew he was carrying so much for so many, so I joked. I joked as much as I could, so if even a little I could help him.

"But it wasn't enough. Of course it wasn't enough. And now Aedan...he's not living. He's just fighting."

"Why are you telling me this?" mumbled Morrigan. She tried to push of thought of Aedan from her mind. Thinking about him made her chest hurt, made her head spin from worry. Everything the templar said was true- she knew Aedan was going through something awful, but she couldn't talk to him, not after what had happened. Not knowing what  _would_  happen.

The templar sat down on bed and wrung his hands. "Because when he was with you, he smiled so much more than my jokes ever could make him," admitted the templar. "Maybe I don't like you that much, and you me, but I'm coming to you not because you have some wealth of world knowledge that can fix him, nor because you're strong enough to take the burden of the Blight off of him."

He fell silent for awhile before he whispered, "I just want to see my friend happy again."

Morrigan for once met Alistair's gaze.

* * *

Aedan traced his fingers along the fine Orlesian fabrics. How long had it been since he had slept in a bed like this? He had been in bed with Iona, when the first of the soldiers had come. He watched as they drove their swords through her and her bloody body hit the floor.

He could still picture it in his mind. The guard had burst through the door once Iona put her hand on the brass door knob. Then, a year ago, his reflexes were not sharpened enough to stop such a thing. Aedan would have never expected someone to burst in kill him in his own home. Aedan sat on the bed, imagining the elven woman and the guardsmen. He remembered the exact movements of the guard- a single thrust straight through the stomach. If it had been him now, he would have thrown something from the bedside, maybe one of his books, to knock the guard off balance, then picked up his sword and gone straight for the heart.

What would he have done then? Aedan imagined running out into the hallway. He would have gutted them men with his sword and rushed forward. He'd have found his mother earlier, gotten her armed. There had been exactly five guards in the path between him and Oren and Oriana. It had taken two or so minutes to take them down. As Aedan was now, all he had to do was rush through them in a few seconds and gut them like animals.

Aedan imagined running down the Castle Cousland hallway. He could hear the fire crackling in the castle walls. Two minutes saved. Maybe he could have made it Oriana and Oren then. Instead of a cold, dead body, he'd have hugged his living nephew. If only he could travel back and do it all over again. He would have gone with Duncan, regardless of whether or not his family survived. If anything, his family living would have made the entire process easier. No doubt they would have stood up against Loghain and Howe, and helped curb the civil war. They would have protested against their son being labeled a criminal and fought to defend the Grey Wardens.

Aedan shut his eyes and blocked off his thoughts. There was no use in agonizing over how he would do things over. As he hovered over his bed, he remained motionless like a statue, uncertain of what to do next. Aedan had spent so much time planning and fighting that he had forgotten what it was like to sleep in a luxurious bed.

He sat down on it and the bed creaked beneath his weight. For a fleeting second his body relaxed, but memories of days spent in bed, day spent with his family, rushed through his mind. Aedan lept back up, a cold sweat running down his body,stared at the bed, and gulped.

Instead Aedan took his bedroll out of his belongings and laid it by the side of the bed. Aedan lay on the cold hard floor and drank from his flask. He closed his eyes and expected the warm feeling of the whiskey to spread through his limbs, but it did not. It felt just as cold as before.

"Come on," he muttered, taking another swig. After several more minutes, nothing happened. Aedan downed the rest of the flask, hoping for results. He felt a little warmer, and his mind a little hazier, but he needed more, he didn't want to think at all, he just wanted to be warm and fuzzy and then black out into sleep. He reached into his pack for more booze, but found only empty bottles. Aedan counted the bottles with his fingers. One, two, three, and that was only the ones he felt like reaching. Had he gone through all that in the past week or so?

Alone, Aedan curled up on his side and tugged his blanket around himself tighter.

The door creaked open and interrupted his thoughts. He could not see who had opened it, as the door was on the other side of the bed. He heard soft footsteps, followed by the creaking of the bed as whoever it was sat down. The person sat in silence, not noticing Aedan laying on the floor on the opposite side of the bed. Whoever it was waited several minutes in silence. A soft, familiar voice grumbled, "Where is he?"

The Warden turned over in his bedroll."Morrigan?" The witch jumped at the sudden noise and bed shook a bit. Morrigan peered over the side of the bed to see the source. She looked at Aedan, in his ragged scratchy bedroll, then back at the bed, then back again. She frowned in confusion. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to sleep," he stated matter of factly.

Morrigan narrowed her eyes. "While there is a bed next to you?"

"...I'm used to sleeping in the bedroll."

"Get up, fool."

Morrigan pulled at Aedan's arm, attempting to lift him up. Aedan idly tugged his arm downwards, easily breaking Morrigan's grip. The witch clawed at him with her hands again.

"Just-"

"It's not happening, woman-"

"Hold your damn arm still-"

"Stop clawing at me-"

Despite her insistence and constant grabbing, Aedan remained where he was. After much struggle, Aedan simply rolled over on his side and faced away from Morrigan. Sighing, Morrigan rolled over off the bed and fell onto Aedan, positioning her elbow so that it would land directly on his stomach. Unfortunately for Morrigan, her lightness resulted in only a minor grunt from Aedan as she collided with him. She landed on the other side of the bedroll next to Aedan.

"...Did you just try to elbow me in the stomach?"

"No."

The two lay back to back inside of his bedroll. Subtle heat lingered between their backs. They stayed like that, savouring the warmth they both had not felt in awhile, while at the same time being able to deny it.

"Why are you here, Morrigan?" asked Aedan finally. He felt the witch's back fidget and shift. They were quiet like for awhile, until the witch replied, "The templar asked me to check on you."

"Alistair?"

"He has noticed things about you… and I as well...that trouble us. You are… unhappy."

A low grumble arose from Aedan."I'm fine."

"You are  _not_  fine," said Morrigan with her voice raising, "You do not eat, you do not sleep, you do not smile, that is the very definition of not fine."

"I'm fine," he reiterated even louder than Morrigan. The conversation died, leaving only an awkward silence in it's wake. Morrigan however continued after too much silence had passed.

"We are very similar, you and I. And...I imagine that you feel the same way as I do about certain situations. Tis difficult for me to talk about things like this to other people. Every word requires a different sort of courage than fighting. Tis difficult for you as well. But then I thought, if Alistair, a man who despises me with every fiber of his being, decided to come to me to help, to put his faith in me that I could help you, then why can't I be as brave as him?"

Morrigan curled up more into herself, her back withdrawing away from Aedan's. Only a small spot still remained pressed against his. "So if I can do it, I know you can too," she said, "So let me go first: I am not fine."

Aedan glanced over and looked at Morrigan's back facing him. The witch bit her lip and struggled to find her words. "How do I put this," she stuttered, "this is your fault...you made it such that...when you are smiling, I can smile. When you are laughing, I am laughing. When you are full, I too feel full. Conversely, when you are hungry, I feel hungry as well. When you are sleep-deprived, I cannot sleep either. When you are sad, so am I. And right now, I am hungry...I cannot sleep...and a deep sadness weighs down on me when I see you like this."

"I hate you for making me feel this way," muttered Morrigan, "It feels as though each action I take is like leaping over a large chasm, and I am unsure if I can make the jump. I am dizzy and my heart quivers, but at the same time there is a quiet feeling in me- no, not a feeling a fact. If I came to you, you would be there for me. Like you did with Flemeth."

Aedan stared at the wall, mulling over Morrigan's words. It was easier not to talk about his problems. It was easier to push them down and not confront them, because Aedan didn't know how to deal with them, or perhaps he couldn't deal with them. But if Alistair could make the leap to Morrigan, and if conversely Morrigan could make the leap to him, then maybe, thought Aedan, I could too.

Aedan knew he was tired, hungry, sad, and at his lowest point. Was it so hard to admit he was fallible? Was it okay? Was he allowed to be weak? If Morrigan, the woman who had told him power was everything, could do it, then maybe for once in his life, maybe-

For the first time, Aedan finally said it:

"I'm not fine."

He could feel it. That sheer terror that pulsed throughout his body. His hands went clammy. He stopped a moment to slow his breathing, to calm his racing mind. Morrigan could feel the Warden's back trembled against her own as the normally calm Aedan stumbled over his own words.

"I'm responsible for countless deaths,and responsible to protect countless more lives, and sometimes the burden is so heavy. I can't sleep. I can't taste food anymore. I run myself ragged just trying to keep the momentum going. I look in the mirror, and I don't recognize my own face and body. I keep saying that we will stop this blight...but sometimes I think I'm just trying to convince myself."

Morrigan turned over in the bedroll to face him.

"You are a fool."

"What?"

"If are you tired, then rest, and if you cannot rest, then there is a problem- one that you need to fix. I do not know much about your past, so I do not know much about who you were, but the you I knew immediately after Ostagar was not weak. You stood for the mages and Redcliffe against overwhelming odds. The you right now is not weak either. You have the conviction to carry out your mission, no matter what. If you had not been decisive, the dwarves would erupted in civil war.

Me laying here and listening to your problems...will not fix a thing.I do not believe I have the power to fix your problems, nor you mine. But you have always shown faith in me, even when others have given none. Likewise, I have faith in you, even if you were fighting an archdemon, that you will win. So this inner conflict, I know you will find some way to beat it. I cannot help you with that...but if you are too weary, or if your body has tired too much for you to carry on, tell me. Have some faith in me. Lean on me if you have to, until you are better, instead of hobbling about like a fool."

As Morrigan's words washed over him, so did a familiar feeling of relief. Aedan had almost forgotten this feeling. A tiny bit of weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His body relaxed a little.

Morrigan realized she had been talking for quite some time without Aedan saying a thing, and buried her face in her chest so he would stop looking at her. Aedan looked down at Morrigan's face buried in his chest. Her stern face reddened enough that Aedan could see it in the dark.

"And what of us?" asked Aedan.

"I am here right now, is that not enough for you?" muttered Morrigan, who reached over and pinched Aedan's face. Her face twisted into that familiar half-frown of irritation and furious eyes. Aedan liked that face of hers. "I do not dislike being here with you, but tis a very foreign and overwhelming feeling." Her voice trailed off.."So let us start from the beginning...take it slowly, lest..."

Morrigan muttered something inaudible as she buried her head in his chest again. The only indication she said something was the slight movement of her lips as they brushed against his shirt. The witch rolled over in the bedroll away from his gaze, but pulled Aedan's arms along with her and wrapped them around herself like a blanket.

"Lest what? Lest your heart burst like a swooning maiden?" teased Aedan as he felt the warmth of Morrigan in his arms.

"If you tease me, I will leave." Aedan felt the shape pinch of Morrigan fingers digging into his cheek again, this time with more force behind. Aedan laughed and and pressed his face against her washed hair. He took a deep breath and savoured the warm scent. "You know, if we're starting over, I think proper introductions are in order."

"Now you are simply being ridiculous," scoffed the witch with her back pressed against Aedan's chest. She had almost forgotten what a fool he was.

"Nice to meet you, Morrigan." Morrigan noticed Aedan grow quiet and pull her closer. Against her back she could feel his heart thump through his chest while the man nervously gathered his next words. "My name is Aedan Cousland," he whispered in her ear.

The witch had opened her mouth to retort to Aedan's teasing, but realized what she had just heard and fell silent. Such a name had no meaning to Morrigan, but she smiled and pulled Aedan's arms closer around her. The stitches in his forearm pushed up against her right cheek. She twisted her head around and with a radiant smile planted a single kiss on his lips.

"Nice to meet you, Aedan Cousland."

* * *

**PART 6 END**

* * *

 


	53. Grudges

* * *

**Part 7: Strength**

* * *

Morrigan couldn't sleep.

Not that she needed to be sleeping right now; the sun had already broken over the horizon and light peeked through the cracks in...Aedan's tent? Their tent? Morrigan rubbed her tired eyes and let the thought trail off. The man sleeping next to her snored once again. The resulting noise rumbled against Morrigan and echoed in her sleep deprived head. She thudded her forehead against the pillow repeatedly.

Yes, therein lay the cause of her woes. Morrigan narrowed her eyes at Aedan's slumbering face. How dare he make such a content face when his snoring had woken her up in the night. Another deep snore shook the tent. Morrigan resisted her burning desire to grab the man by the face and shake him awake as violently as she could. She smushed her hand against his face to try to turn him over. The man mumbled drowsily and lay still as a rock. Morrigan slumped her head in defeat.

Usually he only snored so loudly after a night of drinking. He still had insomnia and still often drank to help him sleep. Often times Morrigan would wake in the middle of the night to hear him having a nightmare, or to simply find him sitting up in bed staring into the distance, sipping from his flask.

As if sleeping next to a woman would cure his insomnia, thought Morrigan. Twas the fancy of young maidens and their tales. Still, at least he was sleeping a bit more, and that alone was worth it. She watched him sleep for a little bit longer before she heard the clattering of pots outside. The smell of slightly burnt bacon wafted inside.

"Hey! Breakfast is ready! We need to get going early so we can get into Denerim on time!" shouted Alistair, "Get up you two."

Aedan groaned half asleep. Morrigan felt his body shift against hers as he pulled the blanket tighter around the two. "Five more minutes," he muttered in his sleep. There was a slight wheeze in his breath; Morrigan glanced at the bruise upon his chest, from where an ogre had punched him. Morrigan brushed her hand over his chest, a slight glow of magic emanating from her fingers, then the bruise faded. Aedan's breathing slowed and relaxed.

Alistair pulled open the tent flap. By this point, he had no reaction to the two sharing a bedroll. Light trickled through the opening, and Aedan groaned at the sudden change. "Come on Aedan, we should really-"

The witch held her finger to her lips and silenced Alistair. He took a single look at Morrigan's slightly reddened face, rolled his eyes with a smile, and left the tent. The tent darkened again as the flap fell back into place. Aedan's arms were draped loosely around Morrigan, and she could very easily pry herself from his grip and start getting ready. Instead the witch rested her head against his arm.

"Just five more minutes," she murmured.

* * *

While the others got ready, Aedan and Morrigan sat inside their tent. Morrigan hovered her glowing hands over his back and sighed. His wounds had opened up once again after recent scuffles with the darkspawn. The creatures had begun venturing from the south and scouting out their next destination. What had once been a few stragglers had turned into roaming squadrons of fully armed darkspawn. No longer could they avoid scuffles with the darkspawn while travelling.

Morrigan brushed her hand over the rough stitches that still lay embedded in Aedan's body. Despite how unappealing they looked, they did their job and kept Aedan's wounds from completely opening back up. She traced her finger gently down the path of the bloodied scar, her magic sealing up the skin and flesh. "I told you to stop overusing that...whatever it is you do." She cursed that decrepit old mage for ever giving Aedan that vial.

Aedan grunted, "If I don't keep using it, I won't get better with it. It's like riding a horse."

"Well, it opens up your wounds each and every time you go too far, so guess who has to fix that up?"

"I'd rather err on the side of caution and be as prepared as possible for the Archdemon...but I appreciate what you're doing for me. Really." Aedan placed his hand on her wrist.

"Do not touch my hands while I'm healing you," spat Morrigan as she swatted him away.

"Sorry." Aedan rolled his eyes. Morrigan noticed this and sent a rather large surge of magic through one of his wounds. Aedan yelped as the magic flowed it, sending intense shivers down his spine as the wound healed at a much greater rate. She smirked at his discomfort and patted him once on the back.

"I can only heal so much...the rest is up to you," said Morrigan. She got up and collected her belongings before heading out into the clearing to meet the others.

Aedan leaned back on his bedroll and sighed. "I guess so."

* * *

Aedan and Alistair still entered into Denerim in their cloaks. By now, Eamon had actively started his campaign to help the Grey Warden's name, but already the sentiments regarding the order had changed from one year ago. News of Aedan and Alistair's deeds had spread throughout Ferelden, and the thousands of refugees whom they had saved did far more than any public relations campaign could. Still, public opinion would not change the decree of the law: Grey Wardens were to be hunted down and arrested. The allure of money often won over people's moral standings.

"At least they took the wanted posters down," muttered Aedan. He still marked the position of each of the guards while keeping his head down.

"And here I was looking forward to getting chased through the streets," said Alistair.

"Don't kid yourself. Loghain and Howe will have their dogs on us the moment nobody's looking."

"Are they cute little mabari pups? I wouldn't mind being mobbed by those."

Gregory growled up at Alistair. The templar laughed. "You're still cute….just in a different, larger way."

The mabari huffed and left Alistair's side to go back to Aedan's.

The market district bustled with activity- more merchants and customers than ever crowded the streets. In particular, Aedan could see an increase of noblewomen out and shopping, and the goods offered were of higher class than usual. The Landsmeet tended to draw much more business into the city. Though many nobles found it a pain to travel all the way to the city, the citizens of Denerim certainly enjoyed the extra money. Though, thought Aedan, they might be a little more eager to come to this one considering the darkspawn were nipping at their ankles...or in the case of the South, had devoured them whole. In any case, the large crowd afforded the group suitable camouflage.

After navigating through the market district, Aedan rapped his knuckles against the wooden gate of Eamon's estate. He had never been inside, but he had often met up with his father outside this very gate after Eamon and Bryce had finished their business.

The guardsmen peeked through a slot in the gate and closed it right back up. The familiar sounds of a castle winch being worked rumbled through the air. The gate pulled up and Aedan saw the figure of Eamon and his family come out to greet him. Isolde had wrapped her arm into the crook of Eamon's shoulder. Connor barreled towards Alistair and greeted the templar with a hug of the legs.

"Uncle Alistair! You're here! It's so boring here without you."

"It can't be that bad," laughed Alistair.

"It's filled to the brim with all my father's politician friends and their depressing guardsmen," pouted Connor.

"Let's hide, shall we?" grinned Alistair at the lad and shooed the boy off.

Aedan greeted the Arl with a single nod. "Eamon."

The Arl nodded back. "Aedan. Or should it be Warden? That seems to be the moniker everyone calls you by nowadays."

"Whatever you think is appropriate."

Eamon glanced up and down at the armored Aedan. "That's a difficult decision."

Alistair walked up to Eamon and poked him in the belly. "You're looking significantly less, you know, comatose. You've been eating well. I know I'd be."

Eamon chuckled and poked Alistair back. "Careful, Alistair. We can't have one out of two of our Wardens being too chubby to fight."

Alistair's stomach growled and the templar sheepishly scratched his head. "Sorry, I'm just remembering the last time I was here and you had that cheese platter out."

"If you want, we can have the servants whip up the same thing."

The templar beamed. "Something that I didn't tie up and burn black over a fire? Count me in." Realizing his words, Alistair glanced over at Aedan's serious expression and coughed into his mouth, and attempted to don a more business-like tone."Unless, you know, we should get down to business-"

"Just go eat," said Aedan, a small smile at the edge of his lips. Alistair quietly pumped his fist and strode as controlled as he could down the hallway. Isolde groaned under her breath and followed the templar to the kitchen. The maids and guardsmen arrived and began to escort Aedan's companions into the castle. Eamon quietly gestured Aedan to stay in the courtyard. Once all the others had left, Eamon patted Aedan on the side of the arm. "How about you? You're looking a little better than the last time I saw you."

Aedan raised his eyebrow. "Really?"

"You're smiling a bit more."

"I've been sleeping a little bit more. Helps to not be so tired."

"Good. Let's talk in the study then-"

The gates of Eamon's estate shook with three resounding knocks.

"His Regency Loghain wishes for an audience with the Arl! Open these gates at once!"

Eamon and Aedan looked at each other. A nearby scout lept down from the estate walls and bowed before Eamon.

"How many?"

"He has a small platoon of guardsmen led by Ser Cauthrien, along with Arl Howe and his personal guard."

Aedan ran the possible situations through his head and instinctively reached for his sword."Do you think he's here to apprehend me and Alistair?"

"Maybe… or perhaps the guards are for security- your reputation precedes you, you know."

"You'd think killing hordes of darkspawn would grant me leniency, not suspicion." Aedan clenched his fingers against the hilt of the Cousland blade.

Eamon nodded to the scout. "Let them in." He looked gravely at Aedan. "Weapons away."

Aedan sheathed his word, albeit slowly and very reluctantly. The scout worked the winch and the gate began to rise. Aedan's glued his eyes upon gate and the figures that approached.

You could tell a lot about a man by the way he entered a room, thought Aedan. Some, like Leliana, sought to be noticed as little as possible. She'd quietly wrap her hand around a doorknob, half-jiggle it expecting some trap, and then gracefully step through the doorway with silent footsteps. Her life as a bard never left her. Others, like Oghren, made as much noise as possible. Oghren's life as a dwarven berserker never left him. The dwarf would slam the door open and announce his presence to the entire room. Unsurprisingly, Aedan didn't bring him on ambushes anymore.

Aedan observed as Loghain strode through the gate of Eamon's house. The teyrn didn't need to make a loud ruckus to make an impactful entrance. Each step he took had weight behind it. Each swing of his arms carried his momentum as he marched. It seemed he never took his eyes of Eamon and Aedan for a second, but after a year of hardship and battle, Aedan knew better. In battle, you learned to use the vision in the corners of your eyes as well as that which lay directly in front of you. Aedan saw the faintest shift of Loghain's vision to where Eamon's guards were, then back to the two.

Likewise, Aedan had no time to watch only Loghain. He too peered out of the corner of his eyes as Loghain's trusted lieutenants- Howe and Cauthrien, spread out from behind him. Aedan chose to look at Howe as little as possible- to gaze upon him too long would feed his festering wrath. Aedan needed to be in control. The one who would win this war, who would stop the Blight, would be one with control.

Aedan relaxed his fists and took a deep breath. The life of a Warden had taught his body to channel his anger and power, but his childhood had taught him how to compose himself. He cordially smiled as Loghain, Howe, and Cauthrien stood in front of him and Eamon. Out of the corner of his eye, Aedan saw Eamon do the same. None of the other three before them smiled back. Aedan implicitly understood- there was no need for pretenses. Aedan dropped his smile and replaced it with his usual tired expression.

"I did not expect to see you so soon, Loghain," greeted Eamon, putting both hands behind his back and straightening his posture.

Loghain furrowed his brow. His chin lifted upwards as he spoke. "And why would I not come see the man so important enough that he called every single noble away from their lands while the Blight ravages them? But it is good to see that you are well. It seems miracles do exist." Loghain delivered the line with such relief and regality that one might have forgotten he had ordered Eamon poisoned.

"Yes...tis the work of my friend here. I think you know him?" Eamon gestured towards Aedan with the same courtesy he would a noble. Aedan and Loghain finally made eye contact. The muscles in Aedan's sword bearing arm unconsciously tightened. Aedan stared coldly back and gave Loghain a curt nod.

Loghain narrowed his eyes and glared at Aedan. "I would ask why this criminal is here."

Aedan returned the hostility in kind, replying, "I could ask the same of you."

Cauthrien jerked her irate gaze towards Aedan. "How dare you speak to the Hero of River Dane like that?"

Aedan greeted the knight with a nod. "Ah, Ser Cauthrian, I remember you from Ostagar. You were there too." Aedan lifted his head back up and grinned venomously. "Perhaps you can enlighten us as to what happened- it seems Loghain and I are at a disagreement."

Cauthrien's feet shifted against the ground as she glanced once at her liege. Doubt. Perhaps Aedan could prey on that. He made a note of that for later.

"What happened at Ostagar is a known fact. Your order betrayed King Cailan and got themselves and the royal army killed," spat Cauthrien with her voice a little higher. Yes, she still had her anger, however misguided it was, thought Aedan.

"Not only that, but this man here is the last of the Couslands. A family who conspired with the Orlesians against our country," slithered a familiar voice.

Aedan bit his tongue and chose to turn to Howe. Aedan been stabbed, crushed, set on fire, and yet none of these compared to the feeling of staring at that godforsaken smirk of Howe's. Blood rushed through his veins and he could feel the heat flush through his body.

Howe chuckled at Aedan like he would a small animal. "Good thing I had the sense to pull out these weeds while before they spread...although it seems the job was not finished."

Aedan ground his teeth. The sight of Oren's bloodied body flashed through his mind. He could hear his father struggling to speak through the blood that filled his throat. Aedan struggled to push his thoughts back down into the dark corners of his mind. His pounding heart slowed to a standstill.

"Howe, so good to see you again," smiled Aedan. He outstretched his hand to the man who had slaughtered his family. With the slightest hesistance, Howe grasped Aedan's hand. Aedan leaned in and whispered, "I'm going to enjoy gutting you like a pig." Aedan squeezed Howe's bony hand in a death vice.

"I'll kill you the same way I killed your parents. On all fours, like mutts," whispered Howe back as he returned the handshake in force.

The two released their handshake, stepped back, and smiled at one another with cordiality and malice.

"What have you come here to discuss, Loghain?" asked Eamon, "If you simply wished to say hello, I doubt all this...company was necessary."

Loghain leaned backwards and crossed his arms. "I would like you to stop this business of the Landsmeet. Surrender the Grey Wardens to me, and fall back under my command. We cannot afford to squabble while the Blight consumes us. Please, Eamon." Loghain offered his hand out to Eamon.

"I think I will take my chances with the Wardens," breathed Eamon through his teeth as he struggled to hold back his disgust. This was the man who had poisoned him and indirectly caused the slaughter of much of his village.

Seeing that diplomacy would not work, Loghain let his hand fall back to his side. "Where is Alistair?" His eyes darted about the courtyard. The guards shuffled outwards and peered around the castle grounds.

Eamon scowled at the brashness of Loghain's men. "Inside."

Loghain turned his cold glare back to Aedan. Aedan remembered a time when he had been so small he could only look upwards at the nobles at the Landsmeet. They seemed to him giants occupying a world that towered above his. Now he stood face to face with Loghain, meeting his gaze with equal force.

"This isn't nearly enough men to take me," said Aedan, "if that's what you were planning. And if you can't take me, you certainly won't be able to get inside to get Alistair."

Loghain took a step forward closer to Aedan and narrowed his eyes. "You think yourself a commander. A leader- but when I met you in Ostagar, you weren't even a Warden yet, and yet weeks later you attempted to claim yourself as such. You are a sham, and more importantly, a brat who doesn't know when to hand over the reins to someone who knows what he's doing."

Aedan stood his ground and replied, "We've all seen exactly what happens when you hold the reins, Loghain."

Loghain spoke, emphasizing each word with a cold determination: "I do what I do for my country."

Loghain and Aedan shared a second-long stare, before he waved off his guards. "Men! Let us be off. Clearly the Arl will not listen to reason. We will simply have to wait for the Landsmeet to end before we can truly be united." He shared one last glare at Aedan and Eamon. The Teyrn scoffed at the two and turned his back upon them.

As they passed, many of the guardsmen scowled at Aedan and Eamon. "Disgusting," one whispered under his breath. Aedan bit his tongue as the last of them, as well as Loghain, Howe, and Cauthrien, left.

The gravity of their encounter left Aedan and Eamon speechless for awhile, until Eamon remarked, "That was rather unexpected."

Aedan scowled with disgust at the past events. "Did he actually think that would work, or is he trying to antagonize us?" He narrowed his eyes and remembered Howe's smug smile and his comment about his parents. His teeth ground against one another. "Scratch that. He's antagonized me  _very_ well. "

"Howe," said Eamon. He glanced once once at Aedan, then back at the blue sky of Denerim.

"Howe." Aedan's nose twitched. "I smelt blood on him, and I doubt he's the kind of a man to fight for his people. He's been killing, or at least wounding somebody."

"Rumors have spread that Howe become more and more depraved ever since he became Teyrn."

The last time Aedan had seen Howe, he was with Aedan and his father meeting Duncan in the living room. He was smiling and talking politely while his men marched to come kill his closest friends. Had he always been planning this? Did he ever truly think Aedan's family as friends? Aedan had searched mentally for that moment where he changed, where he went from loving the Couslands to hating them, but could not find it. All he could remember was Howe's smile as that wretched man laughed with Bryce Cousland. Aedan wondered whether that was a testament to how well Howe could hide his treachery, or how naive and trusting the young man had once been.

"Do you know what happened to Castle Cousland?" asked Aedan in a hushed tone.

Eamon hesitated in his answer. "I have heard only rumors, as no one visits there. Most of the walls crumbled from the fire and assault."

"What of their bodies?" Desperation tinged Aedan's trembling words.

Eamon swallowed before replying, "I don't know. I'm sorry, Aedan. I've only been awake for a few weeks, I haven't had time to investigate."

The warden grimaced. "It's fine."

The conversation paused briefly while a servant handed Eamon a coat from behind. The cold wind had picked up. Eamon wrapped the wool coat around himself and shivered.

"I would give you a coat m'lord, but your armo-" stuttered the elf to Aedan, who wouldn't meet his gaze.

"I'm fine, thank you," grunted Aedan. The servant scurried off as fast as his feet would take him.

"Do I scare them?" pondered Aedan aloud.

Eamon raised his eyebrow. "You scare me."

"Well- let's hope I can scare a few more people by the time this is all over." Aedan still shivered a bit as a strong gust of wind hit his armor, but he was used to it by now. The cold seeped deep to his bones and eased the pain in some of his wounds.

Eamon hesitated with his next words. "Do you want to kill Howe?"

With no hesitation, Aedan answered, "Yes. Preferably sooner rather than later."

Eamon had not been lying to Aedan when he told the young man he was scared of him- the cold, dead look in Aedan's eyes sent chills down Eamon's spine. "It would not be the wisest decision to kill the Arl of Denerim, no matter how despicable he is. We need a good image. Loghain may even be counting on you to come after him so he can have cause to take you into custody."

Aedan frowned and tilted his head up towards the sky. He waited a bit to respond to Eamon. For once the sky was clear and the his surroundings quiet. He took a deep breath of the crisp air and asked, "Tell me. Do you want to kill Loghain?"

Eamon looked down at the ground and pondered. His heart twinged as he thought of the countless villagers of his who had died. "I want him brought to justice. He is responsible for the death of countless innocents from Redcliffe, from this damn civil war, because of his pride. He left my nephew and our army to die. If the court of law dictates he be killed, then I won't complain."

"There's a difference though. Do you want to kill him, or do you want him dead?"

As memories of days long past flowed through his mind, Eamon spoke wistfully, "I don't think I could do it personally. Loghain...though he has done terrible things as of late, he has done much good as well. He fought by my side during the Orlesian Rebellions, and we would not be sitting here today if not for him. I could not swing the sword myself."

"So you think he at the very least deserves the court of justice. What of Howe?"

"Howe is a scoundrel. He will be hanged, I assure you, Aedan."

"So what separates Howe from Loghain? If we go by pure numbers, I'm fairly certain that Loghain has a higher body count of innocents."

"Loghain believes that what he does is for his country. Howe simply acts for himself. Loghain believes he acts on need and Howe acts on desire."

Aedan remembered Harrowmont's head rolling on the ground and that lurching agony in his stomach when the guards had told how many would die. "If only good intentions were enough to absolve oneself." Aedan instinctively reached for his flask and began to unscrew it. Just as he tilted it towards his mouth, he hesitated momentarily. After a moment's thought, he took a swig and corked the flask back.

Now with Howe's death a very real possibility, Aedan wondered whether it was a want or a need. Inside of him burnt a fury that sent rage pulsating through his veins. Inside of him sat a sadness that hampered his way forward. From the beginning, Howe's betrayal had propelled Aedan forward into his new life, and his family's death had weighed him down. His death had to be the solution to the feelings that festered inside of him- then he could finally deal with the Blight with his full focus. In that sense he needed to kill Howe, like a diseased man finding a cure, but when Aedan thought of wringing Howe's neck a smile flickered across his face.

* * *

_Westholme, thought Aedan in the most delicate words he could think of, was the most boring little village he had ever had the courtesy of stepping foot in. Granted, the small village population and the off-the-road location of the village itself made itself a perfect hiding spot for the bastard. Those same things also left the village square empty and the actual village looking more like a small collection of cottages._

_"At least there's not a lot of places to look. Where do we start looking for him?" asked Aedan._

_"I don't think asking to local government officials would be correct...whoever moved the child here didn't want him to be found out. Telling the local government the bastard would be living here would start quite a spark. They wouldn't be able to keep it a secret." Bryce continued to peer around the village. One village boy say the pair and scurried back into his house before Bryce could ask him questions. "If I were hiding him," he pondered aloud, "I'd want the child to be well-protected, but have a strict, moral upbringing suitable for if he ever had to become king."_

_"So. the Chantry? Templars and multiple strict mothers."_

_"That'd be good place to start."_

_After several minutes of trying to find a single person about, Aedan and Bryce finally got directions to the Chantry. They took a winding path through one of the nearby farm lands to building much larger than the rest of the cottages. Aedan was surprised at the scale, and at the facilities. Outside the Chantry, what could be a whole squadron of templars drilled against practice dummies._

_"A lot of templars. I don't think we even have this many in Highever," observed Aedan. He noticed a pair of templars yelling at someone behind the horse stables. Clearly whoever had earned their ire had done so in the most annoying manner, as once the two templars stormed back from behind the stables, their expressions of exasperation had still not gone away._

_"Very suspicious."_

_After a few introductions with the templars outside, the Couslands were immediately rushed to the room of the Revered Mother. As they waited outside her quarters, Aedan peered around the Chantry. If someone was funding the templars, they certainly weren't funding the Chantry in turn- it looked the same as any other village he had visited, with the standard low-quality metal statue of Andraste and meager offerings placed by her feet._

_An elderly woman in chantry robes approached the two and bowed quietly. "I have been told you have business with me," she croaked._

_The elder Cousland bowed back."Thank you, Revered Mother, for seeing us." The woman beckoned the two into her office and offered them seats. The wooden seats, made of old low-quality oak, creaked as the two sat down, but neither of the two Couslands minded._

_"Tis a honor seeing the Couslands themselves come out to our tiny village. What brings famous nobles such as yourselves here?" The revered mother smiled and set a tray of tea for the two. Aedan eagerly swiped a single biscuit from the tray._

_"We're investigating a missing child of an acquaintance of ours. Has your Chantry received any children into its care?"_

_"The Chantry is a place for all the hungry and weary. Many orphans are brought to us. If they had parents, no doubt we would have brought the child back to them in order to lessen our burden and be able to accommodate the more needy."_

_"I mean several years ago, perhaps given to you by a government official?"_

_The side of the revered's mother face twitched ever so slightly, but she maintained her bright smile and asked, "I don't believe any such."_

_Bryce palmed his hands together, then drummed his index fingers against one another. "Are you sure? We've received information that he was indeed brought to this village."_

_The revered mother went silent and narrowed her eyes at both Aedan and his father. Bryce Cousland sighed at her obstinance. "I will speak plainly. We are looking for King Maric's bastard. There are people, dangerous people, looking for him. I don't know why, but there are willing to kill to find him. He's not safe here if they come looking for him."_

_Aedan reached for another biscuit. "Trust me, lady, I have gone through a lot of trouble to make sure the wrong people didn't find him...people have died for this."_

_The Revered Mother frowned and sighed, "I told Eamon I'd keep the boy safe. He plopped him in this chantry when he was young. Been here ever since. I don't know if this is some political move by the Couslands, but this boy deserves better."_

_"I assure you, this is not a political move by us. We just need you to assure the child's safety- he needs to be moved somewhere else, somewhere where he can't be taken advantage of. You don't need to tell us where you move him, but you just need to make sure that he is well protected."_

_The elder woman quietly considered Bryce's words. After a long pause, she said, "Alright. I will consider this. The Couslands have always been friends of the Crown, and I do not think you would risk coming here and telling me this for any other reason."_

_Bryce and the Revered Mother nodded at one another. "Tell me about him. The bastard," asked Bryce out curiosity._

_The revered mother rubbed her temples for a moment and replied with a half-smile, half frown of exasperation, "Oh Al-"_

_Aedan held up his hands and interrupted, "Don't tell us his name. It's better if we don't know."_

_"Seems rather impolite to call him bastard for the rest of the conversation, don't you think?" laughed the revered mother. Aedan chuckled a little- he didn't expect the revered mother to have a sense of humor about this, even more so considering that the presence of the bastard brought risk to the entire village._

_"He's in training to become a templar. He's a kind boy with a good soul. A little naive at times, but that's a good thing. He can be eccentric at times- one time he just started screaming in the chantry when he thought it was empty, just to see whether anyone was there." The revered mother smiled at Aedan. "He seems a little like you."_

_The young man made a sour face and crossed his arms ."Considering that screaming story, I'm not sure if that's a good thing."_

_Bryce shot a scolding glance at his son. Aedan rolled his eyes and uncrossed his arms. Leaning forward with his elbows on the table, Bryce asked, "You think he'd be a good king?"_

_"He lacks political tact, and sometimes he doesn't quite read the subtext in people's interactions. He's not a very sly boy...but I think that's a good thing. Sometimes you need someone straightforward. Someone who will, despite everybody else playing a different game, barge in and say his mind."_

_"So he's like Cailan."_

_"Very much so, but I think our little bastard would be a better king. He understands what it is like to live a life of hardship. Growing up without parents, he understands what is like for the less fortunate. I sincerely hope that that he never has to become king though. Tis more a duty than a privilege."_

_"Many things are," said Bryce sadly._

_"Would you do me a favor?" asked the woman. She reached under her desk and withdraw a small lockbox. She took a key from around her neck and slid it inside the lock. The box clicked open and the revered mother carefully removed the contents._

_"The man who brought the child here...gave me a package wrapped in lambskin. He said that whoever came looking for the bastard might come looking for this. If he can be tracked down...then so can this. Perhaps it is better if we move it as well."_

_The lambskin package. The translations from Teharel's documents had mentioned it. Aedan took the package and opened it up. Inside was a letter, closed by three wax seals- Eamon, Maric, and Loghain. Opening up the letter, however, did not seem prudent, considering that doing so would break the wax seals. Aedan handed the letter to his father, who examined the seals rather carefully. "These are definitely the seals of Eamon, Maric, and Loghain. A good seal can't be replicated, and I've seen their's a hundred times over."_

_"The two of you can probably guess what's inside there."_

_Bryce nodded gravely and pocketed the package."Yes...let us not speak anymore of this. Good day, revered mother." He and Aedan got up and bowed once again to her, before heading out the Chantry doors._

_Once the tumultuous pair had left, the revered mother sighed and rested her forehead between her hands. Certainly, the bastard had no fondness for Chantry life, but he would also not appreciate being moved to another one for what would seem to him petty reasons. After a few minutes of ruminating on the topic, an idea popped into her head. Perhaps, instead of just moving him, she would let the young man decide next where his future lay._

_The older woman opened her drawer and took out another an opened envelope with a griffon seal on it. She scanned the contents again, then dabbed her quill in ink. "To Duncan of the Grey Wardens," she said aloud as she wrote, "I write to inform you that I have heard your request for potential recruits, and have decided to take several promising candidates to your tournament."_

* * *

Later that evening, Aedan approached the room that the servants had assigned to him. Eamon had graciously given him use of one of the larger guest rooms, meant for more than one person. The older man had smiled wickedly and slapped Aedan on the back. Aedan was surprised that Eamon had picked up on him and Morrigan. Though she spent the nights in his tent, outside of the tent she still restrained herself from public displays of affection. When she had arrived at the castle, she had simply disappeared out of sight. A noble's estate did not hold much interest for her. Aedan guessed she was in her animal form right now, exploring the surrounding areas of the city.

Aedan opened the door to find the room empty and dark, save for a stray ray of moonlight that illuminated the wood floor. Aedan threw his bedroll and things by the side wall, then approached the main bed. He brushed his fingertips over the soft wool blanket. The bedding had plainer colors than Eamon's own castle, but the quality of the fabric still impressed Aedan. He could tell Isolde had spared no expense on the thread count. Under normal circumstances, one should feel comfortable sleeping in it. Still, he had not been able to feel right in the beds in Eamon's estate. Still uncertain as to whether to sleep in the bed, Aedan began to pace back and forth between the bed and his rolled up bedroll.

Aedan rubbed at his face. "I'm being ridiculous, I've slept in beds for the majority of my life.".He halted in front of the bed. His body tensed up as he swallowed his breath. Aedan then forced himself to plop face first into the bed. He tried his best to simply lay still on the soft mattress, but cold shivers shot through his blood the longer he did. Subjected to so many high-stress battles, his body was rejecting the very idea of laying in a bed. Relaxing meant complacency. Complacency meant death. Death meant failure for the one task he was alive for.

Reviled, Aedan scrambled back off the bed. A bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. He pressed his clammy hands against his forehead.

Three loud knocks shot through the air. "M'lord," came a voice from behind the door, "Eamon has urgent news in the study!"

Aedan wiped his forehead and sighed. "Thank the Maker. Something to do."

* * *

Once Aedan had made his way to the study, he found Eamon and an elven handmaiden there. For a servant, the elf wore rather fine clothes. Aedan didn't think Eamon had elves dressed in such fineries, so she must not have been one of his. The elf tugged on her frayed black hair nervously as Aedan inspected her.

"Care to introduce me?" asked Aedan to Eamon, still not taking his suspicious gaze off of the elf.

"This is Erlina, the queen personal handmaiden. Apparently, Arl Howe has locked Anora in his estate," stated Eamon, with a little disbelief in his tone.

Aedan and Eamon both turned to Erlina for an explanation. The elf, clearly not used to such direct gazes from nobles, cowered a bit. In her distraught state, this extra anxiety did not help. It took her a few moments more to compose herself- she straightened her back, a took a deep breath, and let her hands fall to her side. Aedan was impressed how quickly she did so. Perhaps life as the queen's handmaiden had prepared her for such things.

"We have all had our doubts regarding Ostagar," she started, "and how this country has been run since, but Anora has been asking too many questions regarding her husband's death as of late. Howe has taken notice of this and locked her away...perhaps even to kill her. I barely managed to escape his guards and come to you." Her voice trembled as she looked back the two with pleading eyes.

"Not even Howe's that stupid," mused Aedan, "Although if anyone were to do something like that, it would be him."

Eamon scratched his chin as he calculated all the possible scenarios. "Does Loghain know about this?" asked Eamon.

"I am not sure," replied Erlina, "He has cooperated with many of Howe's schemes, but I do not think he would stoop so low as to kill his own daughter. I do not think he would throw away even that last shred of honor.

Aedan and Eamon shared a glance. The two quietly left Erlina inside of the study and went to speak outside in the hallway.

"Should we even trust her?" spoke Aedan in hushed whispers. "This could be a trap."

"We can't afford to take that chance. Anora could tip the tides in our favor if we play our cards right. Worse, if Howe does end up killing her, they may even pin her death on you and Alistair."

Aedan paused to process this new information. Now even Eamon could no longer stand by and let Howe exist while he threatened the kingdom in such a blatant manner. The edge of Aedan's lip twitched. His head pounded as the blood rushed through his body. Finally, after so long, he would have his revenge. Aedan breathed out a muted, half-chuckle. "Eamon. You know exactly what's going to happen if you send me in there."

The older man shuddered involuntarily at Aedan's bloodlust filled words. He looked sadly upon Aedan. He remembered when the young boy had been scampering by his father's feet, laughing and begging his father to come play. Now towering over the ghost of that boy stood a cold man with bloodthirsty eyes. Eamon hesitated before speaking. "I know. Do what you need to do."

"Of course," said Aedan. His hands still remembered the feeling of Howe's hand in his. Aedan clenched his fist as though to crush the man's bones between his. "No more. No less."


	54. Wrath

As much as Aedan hated to admit it, Zevran was right. Many months ago, the elf had told Aedan that the killing would get easier- that his hands would stop shaking, and the guilt would only visit sparingly. Aedan grunted as he pulled his sword out a man's throat. Talisen, apparently, was his name. Aedan hadn't cared too much. Talisen had stopped the group in the alleyways of Denerim, backed up by his fellow Crows. Zevran had been offered the opportunity to rejoin them, but instead Zevran had stood back to back with Aedan against an onslaught of Crow blades. If Aedan had ever doubted Zevran's loyalty, those doubts had died along with the Crows.

Still, Aedan wondered what would have happened if Zevran had turned against him and taken Talisen's offer. Would Aedan have then killed Zevran as easily as Talisen and his men? At the very least, he considered the elf a comrade, perhaps even a friend. As Aedan glanced at Zevran, his mind instantly wandered to how he could take down the elf as quickly as possible. He was fast, and could probably get behind Aedan faster than he could turn around. Most likely Aedan would try to protect his back against a wall and try to force the confrontation into a direct battle. From there, he'd use his superior strength to cleave-

Aedan slapped the side of his face gently twice. He was doing it again- planning for possibilities that had not yet happened. Zevran smiled sadly as he took his place next to Aedan. "I know that look, and what you're thinking. Tis common in my business."

Aedan half-chuckled, half-sighed. "Ah."

"I would not blame you for doing so, if I had chosen him over you."

"I think my problem is what I'd feel afterwards."

"Hmm." Zevran stared wistfully at the dead Crows beneath his feet. He closed his eyes and paused in silence. He clutched something inside of his pocket, then whispered something to the air.

"You okay?" asked Aedan.

"It is not these who give me pause. I am simply remembering someone else. Another Crow." Zevran took a deep breath in and clapped his hands together. "Let us be off. I've had enough of the Crows for one lifetime. Let them think that lifetime ended here."

Aedan turned his gaze towards the Crows dead bodies. The outline of a coin purse peeked out of one Crow's pocket. "Sorry," whispered Aedan. He could not bury everybody he came across, nor could he afford to show them the basic respect of leaving their belongings. He had places to be and armies to fund. He rummaged through the man's pocket and slipped the gold coins into his own.

* * *

Inside the Arl's estate, Morrigan tugged at the splintmail armor now fastened to her chest. She fidgeted about in the armor, and sighed when she realized it would not get any more comfortable. "This guard's armor is a little...constrictive."

After checking the nearby hallways for other guards to make sure it was okay to talk, Aedan glanced down at Morrigan. "Certainly protects you more."

The witch frowned and emitted a low grumble. "Is that supposed to be a veiled criticism of my usual garb?"

"No," stated Aedan. "Veiled would mean I was trying to hide it. I'm not."

"I've told you this before, armor constricts my spell casting and fatigues me physically."

"...Not even some leather? At least in the chest area near the heart?"

Morrigan glared at Aedan with the same fury she usually reserved for Alistair. Aedan raised his hands in the air and sighed. "Alright, I'm dropping it."

The witch scowled and muttered, "Tis the only time I've ever heard a man ask a woman to cover up her chest area."

The weary servants eyed Aedan and the others as they passed through the kitchen. The elves saw much more than the nobles gave them credit for. While guards rotated in and out, the kitchen staff stayed the same. Aedan glared back in silence, hoping that the elves would not pester them. In truth, it seemed they had other problems; dry lips, beleaguered cheeks, and pale skin seemed to indicate malnourishment. Howe certainly wasn't keeping his kitchen staff fed.

Aedan signaled for Leliana to take the front and Zevran to cover their rear. The Queen's room was up ahead. Erlina, who had accompanied them, had already cleared most of the hallway with the excuse of "cleaning". Once the group rounded the corner, they found a glowing blue magical barrier pulsating in front of the Queen's door.

"Hello? Is that you, Erlina?" shouted a voice from behind the door. "Give the signal."

Erlina drummed her fingers against the wall in a slow, sporadic rhythm. The Queen knocked twice against the door. Erlina drummed three beats.

"Thank the Maker," sighed the voice behind the door.

Erlina said, "I have brought rescuers, sent by Eamon. It is the Warden."

"The Warden." The queen's voice cut off for a bit, before she asked, "Warden, can you get me out of here? Magical barriers aren't my area of expertise."

Aedan turned to Morrigan with an unspoken question. The witch brushed her hand over the barrier and gently flicked at it. The barrier bristled with lightning, and Morrigan drew her hand back. "I do not think it wise to simply hurl magic at the barrier. I do not know of its origin, and tampering with it could cause an explosion, perhaps killing your precious queen."

"Wonderful. So what can we do?"

"Easy. We kill the person casting it. Tis a sustained spell, so the caster must still be in the vicinity."

"Well, there can't be that many mages here," grunted Aedan. He turned back to the shimmering barrier and said, "We'll be back soon after we've taken care of the barrier."

Just as the group had turned their backs on the barrier, Aedan heard the queen's voice from behind the door call out, "Is your name Aedan?"

Aedan paused midstep. "Yes," he replied back. He saw Morrigan glance his way, but he said nothing.

The voice behind the door remained silent for a moment. A cold reply followed: "Then I expect you'll have no qualms dealing with Howe."

"Not particularly," muttered Aedan as he unsheathed his sword.

* * *

The dungeon only confirmed Aedan's suspicions regarding Howe's fall into depravity. Countless torture victims stashed away in the darkest corners of the castle. Innocent men and women, some of whom had been here for months, cried in happiness when Aedan had released them. Mutilated limbs, starved visages, and worse.

No more. Aedan would not let Howe spend another second in this world.

Aedan kicked down the door leading to the source of the magic that blocked Anora's door. There, staring back with that infuriating smug smile, was Howe. A squadron of guards all pointed their weapons at Aedan, while the mages behind them raised up glowing palms.

The Arl chuckled and shook his head. "Ah, little Aedan Cousland, still trying to fit into daddy's boots. How precocious."

Aedan narrowed his eyes and snarled,"Howe."

Howe's chest shook as he let loose an infuriating laugh. "Shouldn't that be 'Uncle Howe'? Isn't that what you always used to call me?"

"You don't really think you're getting out of this alive, are you?"

"I could say the same to you. The rest of men will soon be swarming this estate, as well as the royal guard. I'm a very important man. The only way you're getting out of here is if you don't cause too much trouble. You kill me, you die as well."

"Do you know this man?" asked Morrigan from behind Aedan. Howe's eyes lit up like a boy on his birthday.

"Did he never tell you?" laughed Howe, "Poor little Aedan Cousland, last of his house. Had to watch as I killed his entire family and burnt his life to a crisp? Why, it's been barely over a year."

Morrigan and Leliana turned to stare at Aedan. Zevran looked away at the ground. Aedan gripped his sword till his hand went numb. Sweat dripped down his forehead. His heart beat against his chest like a war drum, calling for Howe's blood.

Howe brushed the tip of his dagger with his finger. "I made your mother kiss my feet and beg for your father's life," he sneered.

With a low growl, Aedan pointed his sword in Howe's direction. "Howe, you're making me very angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

"Oh no!" mocked Howe, waving his hands in the air. "Looks like I created a monster. I'm  _trembling_." The older man threw his hands up mockingly in the air and rolled his eyes. Aedan couldn't quite understand why Howe didn't understand the danger he was in. Had his mind finally gone senile and convinced him he could kill Aedan?

Howe leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. He flashed a single sneer. "Men. Show him what a true Teyrn's guard can do."

Ten guards rushed at Aedan and the others. Howe's mages waved their staffs, and two fireballs barrelled towards Aedan's group.

Morrigan slammed her staff into the ground, erecting a bubble of protective energy about them. The fireballs exploded against the barrier and rocked the room to its core. Aedan could still feel the residual heat even inside the barrier. More fireballs and bolts of energy rained down upon them as Howe's guards inched in closer towards the barrier. Aedan glanced at Morrigan, a single bead of sweat rolling down her forehead. "On three," growled Aedan, knowing that Morrigan was capable of holding the barrier as long as they needed. She held up the barrier with only one hand, and with the other gathered a swirling vortex of magic in her palm.

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

Morrigan thrust her left hand into the barrier. The mass of energy in her left dissipated into the barrier. The barrier turned violent red and pulsed once before exploding outwards and slamming the approaching guards into the walls.

Howe's executioners, on his right and left, slid their massive battle axes against the stone floor and uppercut at the same time. Zevran and Aedan lept backwards in unison. Two arrows zipped past Aedan and Zevran's heads and into the executioners. Zevran rolled to the side behind a mage and slit his throat. Without skipping a beat, he threw the mage's body in the path of a bolt of lightning fired by the other, and whipped his dagger into his attacker's throat.

Howe found himself standing alone in the broken remains of his guard. Aedan could see his dagger shaking within his hands. "And that's just what my friends can do," breathed Aedan as he coldly stepped over the bloodied bodies.

"No matter, I can still kill you! I fought at the battle of River Dane! I killed the rest of your family, you are nothing to me!" Howe's confidence from mere moments ago had left him, and instead left a trembling old man.

Aedan grinned at Howe. His clenched teeth held back the hot, angry breath that welled within him. Aedan outstretched his arm, and let his sword clatter to the ground. "A sword's too good for you."

"That pride will be your down-"

Howe charged, only for Aedan to slam his foot into the man's chest. Aedan lunged forward and wrenched Howe's daggers from him. Such a weak grip, thought Aedan. Such a weak man.

"I told you, Howe, didn't I? I'd gut you like a pig- and what better to gut a pig with than a kitchen knife?" seethed Aedan as he slammed his fist into Howe's chest. The man's ribs cracked beneath his blow. Howe crumpled to the ground. Aedan whipped out Nan's knife and stabbed it straight into Howe's outstretched hand. The man howled as the blood gushed out from the wound and splattered across the ground.

Aedan grabbed Howe by the neck and slammed him against the wall, over and over again. First directly in the face, then in the back of the head, then on the side, until the man's face was broken and bloodied. Finally, Aedan grabbed Howe by the neck with both hands in a deathgrip. Howe's neck cracked beneath Aedan's grip. Howe's face began to go blue. Aedan let up his grip a little and snarled at the man,"Did you even feel an inkling of remorse?"

Howe's weak cough twisted into a hearty chortle. "Did...I ever tell you what I did with the bodies?" His eyes glinted with malice. "I left them there to rot, like old meat from the market. The birds are probably having a feast of them right now as we speak- probably have for the last year."

Aedan's breath left him. His hands had gone numb. Howe crumpled against the wall as Aedan unconsciously released his grip. Through clenched teeth Aedan whispered, "You left them as food." His dark hair covered his downcast eyes, hiding his expression from Howe.

His uncle weakly leaned his head backwards and laughed. "Typical little Cousland. You hear one comment about your family and you let your guard down."

Howe pushed himself off the wall and pulled out a hidden dagger. As Aedan lifted his eyes back up, Howe saw the warden's face contorted in silent fury. Aedan grabbed both of Howe's hands by the wrists. He spoke in a low growl, like a barely contained beast about to devour its prey. "You know...I've learnt a rather neat trick since we've last met."

The smell of tainted blood filled the room. The veins on Aedan's neck darkened and pulsated as Aedan clenched his teeth. He took a single breath in, before squeezing his hands tight around Howe's hands and wrists.

Howe's screams reverberated in Aedan's ears, muffling the crunching of his bones against the Aedan's gauntlets. Warm red flesh dripped down the cold metal like pulp. Bone and flesh splashed to the floor.

"Now tell me...why." Aedan grabbed Howe by the collar and slammed him against the wall again. He picked up Nan's knife and held it once more against the man's throat. "TELL ME! WHY?"

Although barely alive, Howe still had the ferocity in his spirit to bare his bloodstained teeth. "I deserved more," he croaked, "I was right there alongside your father during the war, yet somehow your father got it all! The teyrnship, the respect, the power- your family squandered the privilege given to you!"

No color remained in Howe's face anymore. "I deserved more. I deserved more. I deserved more," he whispered over and over again. He tried to reach for something, anything, with his arms, as though forgetting his hands were no longer there. Cold sweat dripped down his battered face as he let go of the last vestiges of his dignity, and with everything he had left him, roared, "I DESERVED MORE!"

Howe's snarled and spat at Aedan like a wild beast. His spit hit Aedan in the face and dripped down his cheek. In that moment, as Aedan looked upon the almost feral Howe, his grip on his knife faltered. He had imagined this moment over and over again in his head. He had expected the satisfaction of revenge to run warm through his blood. He had expected...more.

As Aedan pressed the knife's edge against Howe's throat, the insides of his stomach churned and twisted. There was nothing different about this kill from any other. Killing Howe would not let him sleep at night. Killing Howe would not lessen the weight of his burdens.

"If I kill you...nothing will change. You'll still be the same old disgusting scumbag as before. They'll still be dead. Nothing will change."

But the man still needed to be put down.

Aedan slammed Nan's knife into Howe's throat. The man gurgled up blood. He coughed and splashed the crimson liquid against Aedan. Howe scraped his bloodied stump against Aedan's armor one last time, painting a scarlet streak across the dark grey. Aedan stood there silently watching the life drain from Howe. This moment, one that should have been a grand vengeance, a shining beacon of justice, felt empty and shallow. All he could think about was the dead bodies of his family rotting in the open.

Aedan turned Nan's knife over in his hand and ran his finger down the bloodied edge; it had dulled from killing so many. Whetstones had already ground the metal down to a ghost of what the knife had once been. It would not be of much use any longer.

His mouth moved as though to say something to Howe, but the words remained stuck in his throat. Instead, Aedan wordlessly tossed Nan's blood covered knife to the ground next to Howe's body.

* * *

Erlina stood outside the queen's door fidgeting. "The guards are swarming the estate! We must hurry!" she stuttered. With two rapid knocks against the door from Erlina, Anora undid the lock and entered into the hallway. In her guardsmen disguise, Aedan barely recognized her, but looking closely enough he still recognized her face, having seen it from a distance at many a gathering.

"Aedan Cousland. So it is you," remarked Anora. She eyed his bloodied gauntlets and gulped once. Aedan could swear he saw the famously composed queen flinch for a moment. Anora's gaze returned to face level. Her stare reminded Aedan of Loghain, with cold steely eyes and a tight frown. "I assume Howe was taken care of."

Leliana glanced at Aedan. "So what Howe said about you being a Cousland was-."

"We can talk about this after. Rescuing the queen takes priority."

Really, what was there to talk about? Aedan could sum up his experience in one sentence. His family was murdered, then he became a Grey Warden. Done. He reviled the idea of talking about it for more than one minute.

He glanced at Morrigan, who had been quiet throughout the entire exchange. Their eyes met briefly . She understood- he would talk about it at the appropriate time and place. Still, he could see a twinge of curiosity in her pondering eyes, that glanced once back at him again. Perhaps she was hurt that others knew more about him than she.

The stamping of feet and clinking of swords grew louder with each passing second. "What's your plan to sneak out of here?" asked Anora. Just then a guard rounded the corner, only to meet the butt of Aedan's sword.

Aedan scraped the bottom of his sword against the tapestry on the wall to get the blood out. "I'm not very good at stealth."

Anora sighed. "I am filled with confidence."

"Just...stay behind me and keep quiet," grunted Aedan, pushing the queen behind him. He peered around the corner to find the hallway surprisingly empty. "Zevran, take the rear. Everyone, sprint!"

The group rushed down the hallway and into the main courtyard. The sound of a dozen crossbows being cocked and twice as many swords being unsheathed made Aedan immediately regret the decision. A mass of guards stood in front of the main doors, led by Loghain's general, Ser Cauthrien. "Stand down!" shouted the woman.

Fifty guardsmen. Aedan's group might be able to take them alone, but Aedan doubted that these guardsmen, who were simply following orders, deserved death. The main issue was the disguised queen, who was currently trying her best to stand behind the others and look inconspicuous. She and Aedan both understood what would happen if she was caught with them.

Cauthrien scowled at Aedan. "I knew that Loghain could not be wrong. You Grey Wardens are just murderers, aren't you? Come to kill a Teyrn in his own home? Are you even human?"

Aedan considered his words. "And what, Ser Cauthrien," he spoke with caution, "are you here for?"

The fact that Aedan had not already attacked her made Cauthrien lower her shield a little. "You, preferably alive. Loghain want to question Ferelden's greatest criminal, perhaps gain some information to finally end this civil war once and for all."

Aedan regarded her question with a quiet moment of contemplation. His eyes darted around, examining all possible strategies. There was nothing for Anora to take cover behind, and even if he told her to flee down a hallway, there was no guarantee other guards wouldn't find her there. Aedan swallowed once. Aedan met eyes with Zevran, and pointed at Morrigan with his gaze. The elf nodded once and took out a small paper packet from his pocket. The elf sidestepped behind Morrigan as she continued to stare down the troops before her.

"You only have a warrant out for the Grey Wardens, correct?" asked Aedan.

It took a second for Morrigan to register what Aedan was implying, but when she did, her hands began to glow with fiery wrath. Still not taking her eyes off her enemies, the witch snarled, "Aedan, what are you sayin-"

Zevran's hands shot from behind and cracked the packet under her nose. A noxious smell lingered faintly in the air. The witch slumped over and collapsed into Zevran's arms. Aedan dropped his sword and kicked it over to Leliana, then held both his hands above his hand. The bard kneeled down and looked back up at Aedan. Her hand hesitated over the hilt.

"Go," Aedan urged. Ser Cauthrien glared at the rest of Aedan's group, and with a begrudging scowl she pointed to the main exit. Aedan watched the others make a cautious retreat. Once he heard the main gates slam shut, two guards pushed Aedan onto his knees and yanked his hands behind his back. Two more brought a length of heavy metal chain to tie him up with, and handed it to Cauthrien. The rather strong woman tightened the chains so hard around him, Aedan felt all his breath leave him.

Ser Cauthrien pulled him up the the chains and drew out a paper with Loghain's seal on it. Though she spoke with a strong tone, she would not meet Aedan's eyes as she read his charges.

"Aedan Cousland, by the authority given to me by Regent Loghain, for your family's plotting with the Orlesians, your order's betrayal of the king, and countless other murders, you are now under arrest."


	55. Reasons

After the fifth session of getting beaten with a wooden pole, Aedan felt as though the pain dulled- then they brought out the metal rod for the sixth. He didn't like that one as much, he thought as blood dripped down his maimed body. He did however prefer it to the waterboarding. But definitely not the metal spikes.

He concentrated instead on the hazy anger lingering in his head. His nostrils flared. Howe's words rung in his head- his family's bodies were just laying around for the beasts to feast upon. They deserved better. From the very beginning they deserved better. The entire time that he had been away, he had left them rotting in the cold. He needed to give them funeral rites and a proper pyre. Aedan gritted his teeth as he felt blood trickle down his torso. He was going to get out of here, and he was going to take care of what he should have a long time ago.

His torturer slammed the rod against his back again. Aedan couldn't ascertain the man's expression through his black hood. Perhaps the torturer actually enjoyed this line of work. Perhaps he was ashamed. Either way the man had some reason to torture Aedan. Maybe it pays well, thought Aedan, Enough so that he can do work he hates- or perhaps he did it at a lower cost and truly believed he was doing good work. Every man had his reasons to do terrible things. This man had his. Aedan had his- and as he saw out the corner of his eye Loghain walk through the dungeon door, Aedan tried to fathom the reasons Loghain had.

"He's quite durable," grunted the torturer, "Still won't talk." He brought down the metal rod upon the side of Aedan's torso. Aedan clenched his teeth as he felt one of his ribs break. The Teyrn whispered in the guards ear. The guards nodded at everyone else in the room, each one saluting Loghain in turn before marching out the door. Aedan let his throbbing head fall back towards the ground. "Was wondering when you'd come by," chuckled Aedan before breaking into a fit of coughing. Red flecks splattered against the decrepit stone flooring.

Loghain unhooked Aedan's handcuffs from the ceiling and kicked him down to the ground. Loghain reached into the bag and threw a flask and some bread at him.

"Eat," growled Loghain, who drew his sword at Aedan. The general was not so dumb as to be in the same room as Aedan without his weapon. "They tell me you have not eaten in awhile."

"I'm surprised," remarked Aedan as he gulped down the dirty water in the flask and stuffed the bread into his mouth. Aedan still could not taste things, but his overwhelming hunger overrode his sense of taste. The water soothed his parched throat. "I'd think in the good guard, bad guard, situation, you'd be the bad guard, not the one giving me food and water."

Loghain held his hands behind his back and began to pace the cell. "It seems beating the answers out of you won't work in time before the Landsmeet, leaving only one other method: appeal to your better judgement, if you have one." Loghain turned sharply on his heel and his foot snapped down on the pavement. "Where is my daughter?" he asked with a booming voice.

"I keep telling you, I don't know. I saved her from Howe, then you captured me as we helped her to escape." Aedan took advantage of finally being able to sit and leaned against the cell walls. Loghain dragged a wooden stool in front of Aedan. He sat himself down on it to face the bloodied Warden.

"Do you love this country?" asked Loghain, his elbows on his knees and leaning his nose against his clasped hands. He tapped his index fingers together as he watched Aedan process the question. His mind a little scrambled, Aedan took several seconds before answering: "Of course."

Loghain spoke with the quiet, throaty tone of a weary soldier: "I love this country. These people are resilient and hard working. Our communities are strong and supportive. They care not for niceties and overly fancy garb like the Orlesians. We do not dress up politics and call it 'the Game', as though it were something to win. For Fereldens, politics has always been a means to an end of strengthening our country and helping its people. Unlike our neighbors to the north, the Free Marches, we have put aside our differences time and time again to unite against common threats. There is a strength in the Ferelden blood unlike any nation to ever stand in Thedas."

The teyrn picked his sword back up. He placed the edge of his blade inches away from Aedan's throat. "I love my country, and I will not see you or anyone else destroy it. Surrender...give me command of the armies you've gathered and turn yourself in."

Despite the raw pain that lingered in his body, Aedan still had enough energy to scoff with hostility. "This country is tearing itself apart because of  _you_...because  _you_ let Ostagar happen!" he shouted, his body moving forward as he did.

Loghain inched his sword forward a bit to deter Aedan. Aedan paused, looked at the edge of the sword, and leaned back against the cell walls. Loghain spoke with that same weary tone: "I pulled out of there to avoid more lives being lost. You saw the size of that horde- and there was not even an archdemon. We would have thrown away the entire Fereldan army in a battle that didn't even matter. That is worst way to insult a man's life- to send him to die needlessly."

"You left the king to die," coughed Aedan, "You could have sent a small battalion to extract him-"

"He should not have been down there in the first place. If he had listened to me, I would not have had to withdraw. I cannot value one man's life over the lives of a thousand!" The Teyrn stood back up and snatched a bundle of papers laying on the nearby table. "Is this just going to be you questioning everything I've ever done? Or perhaps we should talk about what you've done." Loghain flipped over the papers and perused the charges. "We know what happened at Orzammar- how you allowed the entire House Harrowmont to be sacrificed for your precious army. Many of them weren't even soldiers." Loghain looked down at Aedan and shook his head.

Aedan fell silent. The only sound in the chamber was his blood dripping onto the cold stone floor. "I know exactly what I've done," he croaked, "and I take full responsibility for my actions- but I'm not going to pretend it wasn't me who made that decision, and that's what makes us different. You lied about the Grey Wardens getting the king killed and shifted the blame of the decision from you to them."

"It was necessary. The people needed someone to blame, and if they blamed me, how could I lead this country against the Blight? I have told you. Everything I do, I do for this country. To protect it from those who would see it destroyed, Blight or otherwise."

"The Orlesian Grey Wardens weren't going to betray us, and still aren't going to betray us. Let them through the borders to help us."

Loghain laughed scornfully. "And how would you know that? You weren't there, when I saw your so called order nearly kill King Maric. Your order doesn't give a damn about what happens to Ferelden, they just want to eliminate the Blight."

"They can't help because you won't let any Orlesian aid past the borders!"

"And let them burrow their way into Ferelden again, like parasites? You, Cailan, your father, were all too trusting of them. I saw the way Cailan talked with that...Empress Celene of alliances and niceties. How he was so willing to throw everything away, even Anora. Nothing good can come of their help."

Aedan had heard rumors about Cailan possibly leaving Anora for Empress Celene. Anora had produced no heir, and an alliance between the two neighbors could be quite powerful. Perhaps that was why he had left the king to die?

Aedan scoffed at the irate man before him. "So the mighty Loghain will do everything for his country except give up your own pride. You've held onto your hate for so long that it's blinded you." Now it was Aedan's turn to shake his head at Loghain. The man glared up with sharp eyes. "I wish Maric could see you now."

"Do not talk like you know him!" Loghain smashed his fist down against the table, which toppled over and crashed against the ground. "He was my friend, and he would stand by me even now, just as I stood by him!" roared the general, his face contorted in rage. Realizing that he had toppled the table, Loghain collected himself and stood up straight. He stared back down at Aedan and scowled, "And do not act like you are better than me. I saw Howe's body. A good man would have given his enemy a quick death."

The two stared at each, their angry breaths slowly seething through their clenched teeth. Loghain opened his mouth and pointed his finger at Aedan, but paused before he spoke. He looked down at the beaten, tired young man, and at his own weary reflection in the glass windows nearby. He grimaced and let his hands lower to his side. Loghain spoke quietly, "If you do not know where my daughter is, then I shall have to make use of you otherwise. Your execution has already been announced." With that, the teyrn left and slammed the door shut behind him.

The previous words lingered on Aedan's mind. Aedan chuckled quietly. You crusade to stop the Blight, and you get an execution order. Even if you stop it, you die killing the Archdemon, he thought. Your family labors for peace and prosperity, and they end up dead, with their bodies eaten by maggots and their reputation torn apart by the wolves of politics. What a world.

His head throbbed. Too much of his blood dripped from metal bats and spikes, and not enough flowed in his veins. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. The cold of the dungeon seeped deep into his bones, but not for much longer. He had watched the guard rotations, and seen where they had put his belongings. Now that Loghain had visited him and had no reason to come back, security would be a bit more lax.

Aedan snapped down on the base of his left thumb. His bone cracked beneath his iron grip. Aedan gritted his teeth through the agonizing pain. Once the worst of the pain had subsided, he slipped his left hand out of his handcuffs.

* * *

Morrigan anxiously leaned her head against the wall and sighed. She knew what was happening in there. No doubt Aedan was being tortured. Yet, they couldn't just rush in and jailbreak him. They needed to remain calm, but her mind raced with thoughts of what they might be doing to him. Even in the Wilds, Morrigan had heard the rumors of the infamous Fort Drakon.

She banged her forehead against the wall again. This is what he made her feel like: irrational, light-headed, worried. She had known this feeling would happen again, because he was him. Stupid, stupid Aedan. If he was not being tortured, Morrigan would have been pleased strangling him once he returned.

Eamon had called them all over for a status report to the living room. The man had surprised her- she would have expected Eamon to be a frail old noble too pompous to stomach the presence of such dangerous individuals in his home, but the actual man was anything but. Despite having been out of his coma for a short time, the man's physique was returning. Certainly not at the level of Aedan or Alistair, but Eamon had seen war far before either of those two. His body remembered war.

When she arrived in the room, it was only him. The witch considered leaving until others had entered the room, lest she be forced to have a conversation with him. But a word lingered on her mind: a word Aedan, Howe, and Queen Anora, had all mentioned. Cousland. She took a seat in the large chair next to Eamon. The entirety of it dwarfed her, and Morrigan examined the ornate fabric and excessive cushioning in bemusement.

"Aedan."

"I know you must be eager to start, considering you two are...close."

"That's...yes, but I had another question." Morrigan cleared her throat. "His name is Aedan...Cousland. I did not grow up amongst the nobility, or even the common folk, so that name means nothing to me. Yet you all know him."

"Yes. Aedan. I suppose he didn't tell any of you. It must have been painful to endure, let alone talk about it." Eamon leaned back in his chair. "His family was second only to the king. Some even wanted Bryce to take over the throne after King Maric died, but Bryce would hear none of that.

"Well-respected, kind, and fair. You couldn't find a better pair then Bryce and Eleanor Cousland. They raised damn good kids too. Fergus was in line to become the next Teyrn."

"And Aedan?"

"Second-born, but a remarkable young lad. He was always smiling." Eamon "I doubt he remembers, but I was there for his fourth birthday. Even then, the boy had such a contagious smile."'

"So what happened?"

"About a year ago, right before the Cousland army was to march to Ostagar, Howe assaulted them in the night. Slaughtered all of them in their sleep. He told the others, with Loghain's backing, that the Cousland had been consorting with the Orlesians. Everyone thought Aedan was dead. So did I- until he showed up with the Ashes and revived me."

Morrigan mulled over Eamon's words. Her mind reflected on her past interactions with Aedan. Did this new information recontextualize them? Taint them? Reveal them? Morrigan wasn't sure. She thought back to the words Aedan spoke to her, after his fight with Flemeth that had almost killed him.

" _I'm sorry...I know how hard even the thought of losing someone is."_

Morrigan grimaced. He really had known- and now, awaiting any word of Aedan's fate then and now, she had an inkling of an idea what it was like as well.

The rest of the group filed in. Once all had gathered, Eamon pushed himself out of his chair. He stood straight and composed, with his hands behind his back. "It is the third day. Loghain has not sent any word to me as of yet. I would have hoped Aedan would have escaped by now. Zevran has scouted out the area for us, in case we need to get in. Any thoughts?"

Zevran cleared his throat and began his analysis. "The Crows have been given requests for Fort Drakon before. We've always turned them down because of the high risk compared to the reward." Zevran twirled his dagger anxiously between his fingers. Usually he'd smile when he talked about a big heist. The elf only frowned today. "The prison security is tight. Nobody gets in or out unless it's through the front gates. Even then they do multiple identity checks and item confiscation."

"We need to get him out of there, Eamon," said Alistair. "Aedan would do the same for any of us."

Despite the negative news, Eamon simply nodded at the information and furrowed his brow in thought. "It's not a matter of should, it's a matter of how. We're a little lacking on the how right now." Eamon stared into the distance in silence. It reminded Morrigan of Aedan, who'd sit and calculate all the possible scenarios in her head. No doubt Eamon was thinking of the best way to navigate the political landscape.

A panting servant burst through the doors of the living room and held out a scroll to Eamon. "My lord, you may wish to see this."

Eamon snatched the scroll from her hands and scanned the contents. "Maker, no," he whispered. He flipped it over to show to the others and read aloud the contents: "By the decree of Teyrn Loghain, the criminal known as Aedan Cousland, leader of the Ferelden Grey Wardens, is sentenced to public execution tomorrow in the Landsmeet chamber, for crimes against the crown and the regency."

The eyes of the rest of the companions wandered to Morrigan, who still stared blankly at the flyer. After a minute, the edge of her mouth twitched. A small flame alit at the edge of the paper. Eamon hastily threw the smoking flyer into the fireplace. "If you'll excuse me, Eamon," stated Morrigan as she turned to leave, "I have a jail to burn to the ground."

"Just hold on, Morrigan, just hold on," laughed Alistair nervously, "You'll kill Aedan too if you do that."

"Good. The fool had me knocked out- and I have not forgotten the role you played in that either, elf," snarled Morrigan. She flashed a nasty glare at Zevran. A cold shiver ran down Zevran's spine. The last time that had happened he had been unarmed against a large battalion of Tal-Vashoth. Zevran inched towards the opposite door.

"I will not hold on for another moment. Aedan is inside there being tortured, and we just sit here doing nothing. Now, because we have waited, his life is in even more danger!"

"I'm just suggesting that instead of rushing in and burning down buildings and such," stated Alistair, trying to pry Morrigan's staff from her clenched fingers to no avail, "we have an actual plan to get him. I doubt Aedan would be pleased to see that we burnt down half the Palace District to get him out. Leliana and I have come up with something that could work, but we'll need you."

Her fingers still tightly wrapped around her staff, Morrigan paused and considered Alistair's offer, glaring at him all the while. Alistair wasn't sure how Aedan dealt with her on a daily basis. The templar tried his best to smile and calmly stated, "Let's just take a deep breath-"

Morrigan sharply inhaled, and pushed out what little breath she had with a scowl.

"Or not," remarked Alistair dryly.

"Come on, let's go." The witch stormed out of the living room, with Alistair and Leliana in hot pursuit.

* * *

_Aedan gave one final heave as he pushed the boulder in place. Panting and drenched in sweat, Aedan collapsed against the boulder face and breathed in relief. The summer sun beat down on his back and he could use a cool glass of water. For once Highever didn't require layers._

_"You're sure you'll remember this is where you buried the lambskin package?" asked his father, who sat on a nearby bench. Bemused by the sight of his son working hard while he himself basked in the shade of a tree, Bryce chuckled._

_"It's a giant boulder next to a tree. We don't have many of those just lying around," panted Aedan._

_Bryce raised an eyebrow. "We live next to a mountain. It's made out of giant boulders and covered in trees."_

_Aedan grumbled, took his knife, and carved a smiling face in the boulder face. "There." He made a similar smile as he turned back to face his father, who unlike Aedan and the boulder, frowned._

_"Find something else to mark it," said Bryce, shaking his head._

_"Maybe I'll find another boulder and draw a frowny face on it," grumbled Aedan under his breath, "then it'll match your face."_

_"I'm sorry," remarked Bryce, "whose fault is it that we have to hide these documents here?"_

_"Not my fault! Just helping someone out!"_

_Bryce sighed at his son's reaction. The young man rarely thought about the consequences of his actions. Aedan always thought that just helping out was enough- that good intentions would only result in good things. "You do realize you've caused a lot of trouble for the wrong people. I need you to lay low for awhile."_

_Aedan attempted to heave the boulder up, but instead slipped. His face planted into the dirt beneath him. Looking up from the dry earth, Aedan asked, "Lay low as in..."_

_"Stay inside in the castle whenever you can. At least for a good year. No trips to Denerim. Understood?"_

_"But I'll be so bored…" groused Aedan. He tried to move the boulder once again, but it had gotten caught in the dirt. He groaned and banged his head against the rock face._

_"I'm sure you'll find some other trouble to get into...like burning down a building or something."_

_"Is that what you think of me, father? I'm hurt."_

_Bryce scoffed and nodded towards the forest."I've seen you practicing throwing those little flasks of yours, and the little glass fragments you leave behind."_

_"Just a trick I picked up from a…" The young man paused. Aedan wouldn't go so far as to call Adair a friend. A mentor? Perhaps. "Someone," finished Aedan._

_"I really don't like the people you meet." Bryce stared at his son and crossed his arms. "I'm serious, Aedan. No trouble."_

_"Fine fine." Just as Aedan managed to get the boulder out a rut, he whipped around and shot at his father, "Wait a second- if you knew that you didn't want a boulder to mark this,why didn't you tell before I lugged this thing over here?"_

_Bryce shrugged his shoulders as a wicked smile crossed his face. "Because it was funny."_

_As the two men below continued to bicker, a lone, unnoticed figure watched from the trees._

_"That idiot. Rock with a smiley face." Adair moved to rub his right eye in irritation, but a sword had recently gouged that out. Instead his hand found itself brushing against a leather eyepatch stained with blood._

_"I guess let the kid be a kid," he sighed. Adair watched as Aedan struggled to push the boulder back into the forest with his father chuckling behind him. The cloaked man jumped from tree to tree, leaving behind the idyllic castle. Adair still had much work to do, more blood to spill. Though he had killed many of them, there were still men who knew of the package and would exploit it for their own means. He would be busy for awhile._

_"Till next time, Aedan," he muttered. Though he said those words, if Adair did his job right, he'd never meet the kid again. That was the world he had fought for with Teharel and the others. One where people like Aedan never needed to know the lengths men like Adair went to protect them. One where people like Aedan could sit at home with their families and enjoy their lives._

_He hoped Aedan never had to pick up a sword again._

* * *

Morrigan tugged on the Chantry robes in disgust. She wasn't sure if she despised the constrictive guard armor or the chantry robes more. Leliana however had a serene smile on her face as she donned her old garb.

"What are you smiling about? We're breaking someone out of prison."

"Who would expect a smiling Chantry sister to break a man's arm and tie them up while we go look for our friend?" said Leliana. "Remember to use the rope in the robes for that." Morrigan blinked. Sometimes she forgot that the sister had been a bard, and that her serene smile was often times a lie.

Apparently, Morrigan did not know a lot of things. What was it she had told Leliana? 'Look at the assassin pretending to be a sister- what a hypocrite.' She would not say something like to Aedan, because she...what were the words for it, she thought. Morrigan pondered for a bit, before coming up with the phrase: empathized with him. She knew how he would feel when she said those things. She did not care for the bard, but she could understand how the bard felt when she had said those things. Morrigan would not wish such a feeling upon either her or Aedan.

The words stuck in Morrigan's throat. The witch tried to clear her throat. "I...have something to say to you...regarding your past," muttered Morrigan from the side of mouth.

"Ah." Leliana frowned in expectation of criticism.

Do not make this harder for me, thought Morrigan to herself. "I have...said things that have been less than amiable regarding it."

"You mean you've been a bitch," muttered Alistair out of earshot. Morrigan ignored the templar.

"Sometimes there are things we would not like to talk about, and I can understand that- and I would like to apo….apo...apoli…" Morrigan cleared her throat and tried to say the words again, but all that came out was a low grumble that resembled a dying animal.

"You don't need to say it. I appreciate the gesture," said Leliana.

The templar rubbed the back of his head and glanced over at Morrigan. Alistair remembered what they had learned about Aedan in Howe's dungeon. Leliana had been the one to explain to him Aedan's heritage. Alistair grimaced as he thought about. Duncan had told him something had happened, and sometimes Alistair theorized someone close to Aedan had died. The templar asked, "Is this about-"

"No," snapped Morrigan.

"You know I used to think you'd be a bad influence on him, but it turns out he's been a good influence on you," said Leliana, who was not trying very hard to hide her smug grin. At this comment, the templar could not help but snicker as well.

Morrigan scowled. "Enough, lest I return to my original plan of burning down the building."

His smile faded lest Morrigan's threat become reality. Alistair decided to jog over to the end of the alleyway to scout out the fort. He waved the other two over while he kept a lookout for more guards."The fort is just down this street- Morrigan and Leliana, you get out in front, while-" The templar paused and sniffed the air. "Is that...smoke?"

A faint haze wafted upwards in the distance, followed by a thundering explosion shaking through the air. "Fire in the prison yard!" shouted one guard as countless more scrambled towards the prison. "Get the buckets over!"

Amidst the shouting and smoke, Alistair turned to face Morrigan with wide eyes. The witch raised her hands in defense. "Wasn't me, honestly."

"Well, it looks like you two think alike," sighed Alistair, "now we just need to figure out where he ran off to." Morrigan covered her mouth with her hand and hid a small smile at the sight of the flame her lover had created.

Leliana climbed up to a top of a building and scouted out into the distance. "It seems to just be in the courtyard...not the main building. Likely he used it as a distraction so he could escape- well, not quietly." The bard jumped back down and gagged on the smoke that billowed out from the fort.

The three walked calmly amidst the ensuing chaos that had now erupted. Countless waltzes through battlefields made the scene almost more familiar than peacetime. The smoke thickened as the fire grew.

"They need not worry- the fire is far from any flammable material, and there's a nearby water source as well," muttered Leliana under her breath. "But it seems he used material far more prone to smoke than most, perhaps so they'd panic more."

Hooves stampeded against the ground from behind the group. A horse whinnied as it's rider abruptly stopped in front of the prison. "Maker's breath," groaned the guardsmen. He climbed off his horse and sighed, "Burning buildings, bodies strewn about, general chaos...that's Aedan for you."

Noticing Morrigan and Leliana behind him, and despite seeing their Chantry robes, he spoke rather gruffly, "I'm sorry, sisters, but this area needs to be sectioned off. I need to find my friend before he causes anymore trouble...or taxpayer dollars."

"Did you say you were a friend of Aedan's?" asked Leliana.

The guardsmen narrowed his eyes."You know him?" Kylon eyed Alistair, who was trying to look as small as he could behind the two women. "Ah. So you're the bastard. I recognize you from the wanted posters."

"That's Warden Bastard to you," joked Alistair. The guardsmen's unchanged frown made Alistair shrink a little.

"My name is Sergeant Kylon," explained the guardsmen with the same dour expression, "I heard news that Aedan was being held here before his execution, and I was coming to see if I could get it appealed, or at least get him released into city guard custody." Kylon rubbed his eyes in irritation. "Instead I find this mess. He does realize how many times I've had to clean up after his messes already, right?"

Just as he finished speaking, a half naked guardsmen stumbled out the nearby alleyway, holding his dazed head in his hands. Kylon marched over to the man and clasped him on the shoulders to shake him awake.

"You, guardsmen, report! What happened to you!" he barked. The dazed guardsmen stood at attention and saluted Kylon.

"The prisoner...he broke his own hand to get out of his restraints." The guardsmen took a deep breath and tried to find solid footing. "He's...not human. Took down a whole squadron with his bare hands, even after three days of torture. Torched the courtyard, took my clothes, and took off on a horse."

As Kylon continued to interrogate the guard, a familiar feeling washed over Morrigan. The ring, she thought. She could barely feel the ebb of it's energy. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the weak signal.

"Do you think he headed back to Eamon's estate?" asked Alistair. The templar peered around the pavement on the ground, hoping to find some evidence of horse tracks.

"No, guards are going to be swarming everywhere looking for him. He'd find someplace to lay low, somewhere outside the city," mused Leliana.

There, thought Morrigan, having finally gotten a fix on Aedan's signal."He has a ring in his possession that allows me to track him," she announced, "He seems to be heading north."

The sergeant scowled at the half-naked subordinate and shooed him off. "North?" asked Kylon. "Oh Maker."

"Do you know where he's going?" said Morrigan. Her voice wavered. The signal was already weakening.

Kylon grimaced and looked off towards the far off mountains of the north.

"Home."


	56. Invincible

Aedan didn't shiver when the cold wind hit him. His body remembered this familiar wind as though it were a blanket. He had grown up with it blowing at his back. It did however send a surge of pain through his left thumb. Aedan cradled his left hand. He had broken his thumb to get out of his restraints, and the rest of his body wasn't faring too well either. His torso throbbed and blood still trickled out of his sticky bandages. Some of it had gotten into his socks and got between his toes, and now walking just felt awkward.

As Aedan walked through the marketplace of Highever, he noticed far less merchants roamed the once busy streets. Many of the storefronts had been boarded up. Well-paved streets now lay in disrepair. What used to be a bustling town square now held countless refugees, begging on the streets. No doubt those fleeing the Blight thought it best to go as far north as possible. He was surprised they didn't go to Kirkwall, but then again, perhaps the city was full already.

With a little searching, Aedan spotted a bakery that hadn't closed up yet. Strangely enough, armed men stood at guard outside. Once Aedan neared, they placed their hands on their weapons and blocked his way. "You got coin?" they grunted.

To be fair, Aedan didn't blame them. The ragged cloak he wore covered his head and body, and he looked very much like a refugee. Aedan flashed a sack full of coin he had liberated off of some bandits. He didn't remember so many criminals stalking the edge of town. The mercenaries pointed at Aedan's sword. "Leave the weapons out here. We don't want you getting any ideas." The warden obliged and handed off his weapons to the guards. He wasn't too worried about it being a scam. If it was, they'd pay dearly.

Inside, cakes and breakfast pastries sat neatly next to one another on the shelves. Steam puffed out of a fresh pot of tea by the counter. "Come in, come in," smiled a well-dressed woman. Aedan eyed the sword by the woman's side.

"Last time I was in town, I don't recall the bread merchants carrying weapons," he remarked.

"Gotta be careful of these refugees, am I right?" sighed the woman, "I give them whatever I don't use, but even then some of them still try to steal. Woman's gotta make a living."

"I'm surprised you make enough to pay for guards in these times."

"I pay them in food and shelter. That's worth it's weight in gold these days."

Aedan scanned the pastries on the shelves, then asked,"You wouldn't happen to have any soup, would you? Little bits of meat, easy to swallow?"

"Got a toothache or something?"

"No, I just like to eat as quickly as possible...get it over with."

The woman heaved a heavy bowl filled with flour into the kitchen. "And to think," she shouted from inside, "I used to cater to the highest nobles. Now people just want to eat as quickly as possible, without savouring the fine tastes my pastries have to offer. I'm sorry, I do not carry soup."

Aedan perused shelves for something else: he spotted a buttery croissant filled with meat and cheese. He stomach growled. He missed the taste of buttery croissants- not that he would be able to taste it now.

After paying the lady and retrieving his weapons, Aedan rested beneath a nearby tree. He took a bite of the crusty treat and almost gagged. It tasted like wet paper, just like everything else he ate nowadays. Aedan struggled to finish the rest of it, swallowing the disgusting wet texture in his mouth as soon he could. It filled his stomach, and that was what he needed. Aedan mentally apologized to the baker for not enjoying her meal. Now he needed to wash out the sour aftertaste. Knowing he would not have to look far, Aedan looked about until he spotted what he was looking for not too far away. If there was one thing Aedan knew would not close down, it was the bars.

* * *

"Water, please." Aedan slid the bartender a silver. Glass in hand, Aedan gulped down the refreshing liquid and gasped for air. The wet paper taste still lingered in his mouth. Booze will kill it, he thought, but Aedan knew he needed to hydrate. "Another water please." After the bartender had handed him another glass, Aedan asked,"What happened here? The city used used to be...better."

The bartender looked downwards and laughed a little whilst he cleaned out the glasses, then he gave a tired little sigh. "I suppose you were here during the Couslands' reign. Howe raised the taxes. Claimed it was for the war effort. There's only so much you can tax without pumping it back into the city. The Couslands always had a rainy day fund for situations like this, but Howe, that bastard, used it all up on god knows what. Whores and drugs probably."

Setting down the dirty glasses, the bartender poured himself a shot of vodka and downed it in a second. Drinking on the job, thought Aedan, clearly things aren't going well. Not that I have any right to judge.

"Then he started taxing traders for just going in and out of the city. Nothing kills trade faster than that. Then the refugees from the south started flocking here. Lots of folk left after that, saying that the glory of the Couslands was over. They didn't want to stick around in this dying place."

Aedan turned away and sipped on his water. He wished there was more he could have done for his home city, but he had to take the path he did. If not, far more than Highever would have been lost to the chaos.

"You a soldier?" asked the bartender.

"How can you tell?"

"All those scars and wounds...and that dead look in your eyes. I see some of you pass through every once in awhile. Some are just on patrol, others are abandoning their post. They've all seen shit with this Blight. You?"

"Some unfinished business. Then back to the job."

"You know why all of Howe's guards left in such a rush? Figure you might know, being a soldier and all."

"You haven't heard?"

"Heard what? We barely get any news up in the north here, now that traders rarely stop by anymore."

"Howe's dead."

A wild grin slowly grew on the bartender's beleaguered face. The man gave a deep hearty laugh and clapped his hands together."You're shitting me. Thought that bastard had too much diplomatic immunity. Who finally killed the bugger?"

Aedan chuckled a little as he mentioned his own moniker: "The Warden."

"I knew the stories about the Warden was true! Knew he wouldn't let us down!" The bartender slammed down several glasses of ale on the table. The golden drink spilled over the stained countertop."Boys!" he shouted to the other weary occupants of the bar, "Good news! The Warden killed Howe! Drinks are on me!"

A thundering roar shook the bar as the men and woman raised their arms to cheer. Whether it was because Howe was dead or the free booze, Aedan couldn't tell. Whilst the vultures descended upon the fre ale, he bartender turned to Aedan and grinned."I think for the harbinger of this good news, and one of our fine soldiers, I think a drink is in order?"

Aedan hesitated. Dehydration and lack of food meant he shouldn't drink. Nevertheless, he was never one to pass up on free alcohol. "Vodka. Neat. Gimme the strongest you got."

"Any particular brand?"

"The cheapest."

The bartender set down a small glass of the clear vodka. Aedan could smell how strong it was. When he was younger, he would have gagged at the scent. Now Aedan simply tipped back the glass and let the poisonous liquid slide down his throat as though it were water. Aedan quietly placed the glass back on the counter and slid it back to the bartender. The bartender shook his head and grimaced."Maker, that stuff tastes like shit. How do you just down it?"

"Experience," sighed Aedan, wiping the last burning droplets away with his tattered sleeve. "So what have you heard about this Warden?"

"He stopped the Circle tower from letting loose an army of abominations," shouted one man in the back, "He can kill demons as well as darkspawn! Reckon he's a templar or something?"

One slobbering man giggled, "Heard he had a fourway with the Empress Celene and Queen Anora...and a nug."

"The Warden got the dwarves on our side. Killed galloping golems or something. We'll be dancing over the archdemons corpse in no time."

"Heard the man's like an unstoppable force! Killed an entire army of darkspawn by himself!"

"We're really going to be saved. This guy's going to save us...right?"

The conversation paused. The laughter become hesitant and quiet, almost fake. The edges of the patrons' mouths tensed up as they all took another frenzied chug of their drinks. They slammed their glasses onto the table, stared down at the floor for a few seconds, and then raised their heads back up with a desperate smile. "Yeah. He's going to save us," said one man, "Of course he will. He's the Warden."

"To the Warden!" shouted all the patrons again.

The awkward desperation in their drinking depressed Aedan, as well as their continued discussion of his exploits. He needed to get out of here. "Has anyone been up to the castle?" he asked, downing another water.

"Nobody's been up there since the Couslands died. Howe's guards kept the looters out of there, but the Arl made no effort to rebuild it. There are rumors it's haunted anyways. Why?"

"Just curious." Aedan pointed at the whiskey on the top shelf behind the bartender. "How much for the whiskey?"

"Ten silver for a glass."

Aedan scooped out a handful of gold coins.

"Gimme the bottle. I've got a long day ahead of me."

* * *

No one guarded the path back up to the castle, just like the bartender had said. Aedan remembered this twisting path back up to the castle. As a young boy, he'd always loved when the wagon swayed back and forth as the horse maneuvered the tricky landscape. Aedan trudged his way back up the road, leaning on the nearby trees to rest when his wounds started acting up. He chided himself- by the time he got back up, it would be evening.

It was better that he had left Denerim for now, but that was just an excuse. Their bodies were rotting in the castle, and he had to take care of them. That was his duty as a son. Blight be damned, he would do this first- or perhaps he was just running from the others. No doubt Morrigan could track him through the ring he had on. They needed to know he was alright after all. Now however, they would see him and they would know who he was. They would know of his greatest failure. He did not want their pity. He did not want their worry.

By the time the pale orange sun had begun to set, Aedan passed the remainders of the main gates. It had been more than year since he had been back- almost a year and a half. The wooden gate had been broken by Howe's siege, then burnt to a crisp. The stone of the castle walls had crumbled and been blackened by the fires of assault. Aedan used to stare out from the watchtowers up in the sky. Now he stepped over the charred remains of a once proud castle. Cinders crunched beneath his feet.

Already Aedan could see bodies. Howe had left the entrails of his victory on display. They lay in front of the gate that they had tried to barricade. Aedan recognized one body from the silver glint around his neck: Ser Rault. The necklace had been a gift from his wife. Aedan never talked to Ser Rault much, but Ser Rault had been loyal enough to lay down his life for the Couslands. The remains of countless other skeletons lay beside him. Their skin and clothing had been scorched away, along with most of the bones.

One skeleton was draped in burnt mage robes. There lay the woman who had frozen Aedan's sword and made it brittle. His right arm, filled with scars from the shattered sword fragments, ached. Numerous charred skeletons lay around her. Aedan grimaced. Even if he had killed her and saved those who now lay beside her, they would have simply perished when Howe's men broke through the front door.

Whilst he walked down that long hallway to the kitchen, in his mind the fire still blazed. The clanging of steel of against steel rung in his ears like it was yesterday. The blood pumped through his veins, reminiscent of when he was so afraid to die. Aedan approached the kitchen door. His hands shook. He had stood there as the fire roared and his hands trembled from so much battle. His right hand shivered from the brittle pieces of ice that clung to it and the sword. Aedan opened the door. Nothing lay inside except kitchen utensil and rotten food. A rat scurried across the floor. He had expected to see Nan's skeleton there- why wasn't it there?

He gulped and placed his hand on the kitchen cellar door. His stomach lurched as the noxious sour smell of rotten flesh filled his lungs. He knew only pain lay behind there, but he had to open it. This was his sin. He had left them. Aedan closed his hand around the knob and turned-

Decrepit skeletons laying side by side, rotten flesh, maggots digging into their eyes, dried blood everywhere, fungus growing out their stomach, they dragged the rest in there and threw the dead on the still living, oh god the maggots squirming and slithering-

Aedan slammed the door shut and slid down against it. His trembling hands cradled his head as he heaved. "That bastard," he seethed, "that shitty fucking bastard." Howe had dragged more dead bodies in there. Aedan recognized Oren's tiny frame laying atop his mother's. Howe had mocked his parents in their last moments by throwing the bodies of the dead upon them.

_You have to do this. You have to be strong enough to at least do this._

He tried to stand back up but couldn't. Aedan pushed aside the door and forced himself to look. He could only stare for a few seconds before his vision went blank and he collapsed to the ground. What little was left in his stomach spewed out. His teeth and gums burned as he kneeled over his own vomit and just stared at it.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

Aedan repeated that over and over again until words could no longer leave his parched throat. He staggered out of the kitchen to look for water, food, anything. All he found were ashes and charred bodies. His mind a blur, Aedan took the contents of his flask and emptied all of it into his mouth. He lurched forward and vomited again. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey he had bought, opened it up, and chugged down several mouthfuls. Aedan held his hand over his own mouth, squeezing his eyes tight as he forced himself to keep the alcohol down. He had to erase the images from his head, but he could still see them staring at them, their eye sockets filled with-

Aedan tossed away the cork of the bottle and took another chug.

Aedan stumbled out of the remains of the castle. Clutching at his heaving chest, Aedan struggled to ease himself down against a stone pillar, but his feet slipped out from under him and the man fell onto his bottom. His feet had gone numb and he could no longer get back up. His ears filled with the burning fires and screaming of his family's voices. He was there, back there on that wretched night, helpless and weak. They screamed and pleaded and he couldn't do a thing. He could feel the sword fragments digging into his right arm and his right hand clenched in agony. The cold sweat dripped his entire body and soaked into his clothing.

He didn't know how long he sat there for, whiskey running down his chin, his shirt soaked in cold sweat, his knees to his chest, their voices screaming and shouting- but then a familiar warmth seeped through his left arm, and the aching in his broken left thumb eased. As the pain eased, Aedan broke from his reverie and turned his gaze to the left to see Morrigan squatting next to him. Alistair and the others stood behind her. In his trauma, Aedan had not heard the footsteps stamping against the stone path, nor the shouts of others as they spotted him.

"Thank you," murmured Aedan. He flexed his formerly broken left thumb and winced. The process would take awhile.

"We were about to get you. You could have waited a little while longer," whispered Morrigan. She brushed away stray black hair in front of her eyes, the slight hint of bags beneath them.

"He left the bodies to rot. I had to come...give them proper rites." Aedan pried away Morrigan's healing hands and struggled back onto his feet. He willed himself back forward that broken gate. Morrigan gripped her lithe hand about his wrist to try to pull him back down but Aedan wrenched himself from her grip.

"I have to go back in-"

Aedan lurched forward and fell on his knees. He held his stomach as to keep himself from throwing up again. His heart twisted. Cold sweat ran down his body. It dripped down onto his hands, and he felt like he did in his nightmares, as though he waded in a never ending ocean of blood and flesh.

Leliana kneeled beside him and pushed him back down against a nearby stone pillar."Aedan, please stop. Just wait for a bit and-"

"You didn't see them, I can't leave them like that," Aedan seethed, "I have to do this." His hands trembled as the fresh images of the bodies flashed through his mind. The maggots, the fungus, the blood, oh Maker. His hand felt around for the bottle of whiskey.

Alistair struggled to hold down the stubborn Aedan. "Aedan...let us do it."

Weary, starved, and wounded, still Aedan tried to stand back up. "No, I have to be the one to do this." He wiped the sweat from his forehead and took a deep breath. "Alone."

"Aedan…"

"I couldn't save them," whispered Aedan, his voice cracking, "I couldn't save any of them. If I can't even bury them, then what good am I? If I can't do at least that...then how can I…" Aedan hung his head in shame. Barely a whisper, the words escaped his mouth: "How can I stop this Blight? How can I kill the Archdemon?"

Alistair looked at his friend, drenched in sweat and trembling, his eyes staring into a far off abyss of pain. Aedan had endured so much, carried so much, and done so much, without so much as asking for any help. Alistair knew what he need to do: tell his friend the one thing he did not want to hear. Alistair said, "This is something you can't do."

"What?" replied Aedan weakly, his face twisted in pain.

"There are some things that we can't do," explained Alistair, "That doesn't mean that we're weaker for it. You can't do this, and that's okay. It's not like strength of will allows you to do everything. Being able to accomplish one thing doesn't mean you can do another. Look at Loghain- he freed Ferelden from Orlais, only to run it into the ground once he had the chance to rule. Seeing your family like this...would be too much. I don't want my friend's last memories of his family to be this. So you can't do this."

Alistair clasped his friend on his shoulders and smiled."And that's okay. You're still...you. The man who brought us this far. I have never doubted that you are the one that will put your blade into that blasted archdemon and kill it."

"When Duncan died...you took over, even though I should have, but I realized now that you were the only one who could have done this- all this. You were the right man for the job. If it were me...I would have gone with the easier choices, and not because I thought it was right, but because it would have been easier on me. You did your job right. This job...this is ours. Not yours."

Aedan covered his face with hands. Through the cracks in his right hand could see Alistair, but in the rest of the darkness he saw only the rotted decrepit bodies screaming at him. The maggots burrowed into their eyes and squirmed about while fungus and blood spilled from their rotted wounds.

Don't listen to him, hissed the voices.

You have to do this alone, called out his father.

You who left us, called out his mother.

You who failed us, called out Nan.

You who could not perform his duty, called out Oriana.

You who got to live while others did not, called out Oren.

You have to do this, or else how can you defeat the Blight, they all hissed at once.

I failed you I have to do this I failed you I have to do this I failed you I have to do this, he screamed internally. He had to do this. He couldn't save all the victims of the Blight and he couldn't save House Harrowmont, but he had always completed his objective- he had always trudged through every obstacle thrown in his way, despite how much he sacrificed. If Aedan couldn't do something as simple as burying the dead, despite all the sacrifices he lay before it, how could he move forward? He had to be as strong as possible- an infallible juggernaut that crushed all obstacles. He had to live up to everyone's expectations as the Warden.

He had to be the Warden. He should be the Warden. He needed to be the Warden.

Aedan struggled to hold onto what little sanity he had left. He clawed at his hair. His eyes clenched, only darkness lay in his sight. It was far easier to pretend it was his family talking. It was far easier to pretend he could do everything. For if he pretended, one day the lie might become truth- that they were not dead, that he was invincible. Yet deep in his mind, Aedan knew the answers could only lay in the truth, not lies.

They're dead, Aedan repeated like a mantra. They're dead, and they're not talking to you. The nightmares aren't them. You're the one saying these things to yourself. Don't pretend they're the ones saying it. Don't pretend you're trying to do this for anyone besides yourself. You just want to reassure and redeem yourself- because if you can't do that, then you're not invincible. If you're not invincible, then you're not the Warden. If you're not the Warden, then you can't defeat the Archdemon.

He remembered the words of Morrigan as she had climbed into his bedroll that night in Redcliffe. Do not hobble about like a fool- lean on us, she had said. Let go, said the spirit imitating his father at the temple.

He could not find redemption nor peace by doing this himself, just as he found none when killing Howe. He could keep struggling to put it right, keep struggling to be some idealized version of himself- or he could listen to Alistair, Morrigan, and the rest, and just let it go.

You can't make this right, he quietly told himself, No man is invincible. No man can do everything.

Just let go.

Just let go.

Just let go.

This one word took more power than slaying Flemeth. It took more will than deciding the fate of thousands. It took more fortitude than enduring countless wounds. Aedan gritted his teeth and clenched his trembling fists. With every iota of strength he had left, Aedan forced himself to breath one word.

"Okay."

Alistair smiled and patted his friend on the shoulder.

* * *

Aedan sat as the others constructed the pyre. Sten, Shale, and Oghren gathered logs of wood, enough to hold all the bodies. Alistair and the rest gathered the bodies. They had covered their mouths and noses with cloth doused in herbs to blot out the rotting stench. In their arms they carried the bodies wrapped in whatever they could find: charred blankets, torn banners, and the occasional untouched tablecloth. Aedan couldn't tell which ones were his family, the guards, or perhaps even the guards of Howe's. It didn't matter. They were all dead. They should all have some sort of rites.

Alistair heaved the last of the bodies onto the pyre. He pulled off his cloth mask and waved his friend over. Aedan groaned in slight pain as he pushed himself off the ground. Morrigan's healing would take longer to take full effect. The templar held out a lit torch to the waddling Aedan. "I thought you should be the one to light it."

Aedan nodded and grasped the torch in hand. He held his breath as he neared the pyre. The stench of so many rotting bodies filled the air all around it. With a single toss he threw the torch into the bodies. The pyre roared alive. Flames danced in the pitch black night. Aedan couldn't help but remember the heated flames of Daveth and Jory's pyre, the cinders that blew against his face as he burnt the victims of the Blight, and the sharp wind that chilled his body as he lay Teharel to rest.

His mind wandered to his family. Laughing, smiling, eating, all as they used to be. He could no longer make out their faces in his memories, but he still remembered. His eyes felt heavy. Aedan gritted his teeth and willed himself not to cry, willed himself not to remember them. That was weakness. He had already made enough compromises today. He had to stop thinking about them. That was-

Morrigan watched Aedan struggle with himself from afar. The witch walked to his side and brushed the side of her hand against his. In that quiet, heavy voice of hers, Morrigan said aloud, "My mother once told me that tears are for the weak."

Aedan wiped his arm across his face and nodded. He clasped his right arm, aching from the old sword wounds delivered that fateful day. "I know- I shouldn't-"

"So I say let them out."

Aedan wasn't sure he heard Morrigan's words right. He twisted to meet Morrigan's eyes. His clenched fists loosened. The woman stared back as serious as ever, her gaze unwavering.

"You should only hold onto things that make you stronger." Morrigan pried apart Aedan's fist with her left hand. Her fingers snaked between his till all were intertwined. Morrigan held his hand tight, as though at any moment he might slip away.

The warden hesitated. "It's...okay?" he croaked.

"It's okay." Morrigan squeezed Aedan's hand in her own.

For the longest time, Aedan did not speak. He and Morrigan simply stared into the fire, like they had always done at camp. A tear dropped down Aedan's cheek as he finally let himself remember.

_His family, sitting around a table, eating together._

Morrigan felt Aedan's fingers clutch hers tighter.

_Oren asleep in Oriana's lap. Fergus and him struggling for the last chicken piece._

Another tear dripped down his face, leaving a warm trail soaked in his skin.

_His parents bickering over who would walk Gregory. Nan laughing as the chicken fell off the table amidst the family struggle._

His chest heaved up and down. One by one the tears trickled forth.

_His family, together._

For the first time since his family had died, Aedan Cousland wept. He held onto Morrigan's hand tight as his body wavered. Tears streamed endlessly down his face. He hunched over and let soak them into the ground. His hand, still clasped with Morrigan's, trembled and shook. They stood there together for what seemed to Aedan an eternity.

As the first warm rays of the morning sun peeked over the horizon, Aedan wiped aside his tear stained face. He realized something as the last of them trickled down his cheek and into his mouth. He turned his back to the pyre, hand in hand with Morrigan, smiling sadly as he did.

They tasted salty.


	57. Tea

"Tell me, what exactly are we digging out?" Alistair heaved another shovel full of dirt over his back. The wind carried bits of soil right into Aedan's vision. The former noble attempted to wipe his eyes, still slightly red and puffy from an hour ago. By now the morning sun had fully risen.

"It's a lambskin package," said Aedan. "it's very important we retrieve it. Royal stuff."

Alistair jerked his hands up into the air and shook his head frantically. "I don't want to hear it. I don't want anything to do with all that courtly intrigue. You can take care of that."

"You don't want to be king?" asked Aedan.

"No," half-laughed Alistair, "No no no. I'd run this country into the ground." The templar timidly scratched the top of his head and continued to laugh.

"I think you'd be great at it."

"See you, you're a leader. Not me. I just follow."

"Different leaders in different times. I'm the best suited to fight a Blight. You're the one best suited to rebuild this country."

"That's funny. More so than the woman who managed the kingdom for five years?"

"I'll admit, it might be a rough start, but although Anora understands courtly intrigue, she doesn't get the common folk as much she would like to. You understand. You've trudged through hardship. And despite all you've been through, you still believe in people...and you bring out the best in people. Using this." Aedan poked Alistair straight in the heart, then returned to his shoveling. The templar considered Aedan's word and drummed his fingers against his shovel handle.

Aedan thought of the Archdemon. His grip tightened and the shovel quaked for a second. Alistair's words were after all just words. All today had proven was that Aedan could not bury his family, not that he could kill the Archdemon. He frowned whilst he thought of his inability to bury his family. His heart clenched. It's okay, repeated Aedan to himself. Still his heart clenched. He wasn't used to letting go. Doing so one time would not change him. Aedan knew he would have to repeat those words to himself for a long time to come before he truly believed them. Knowing the fate in store for him when he killed the Archdemon, perhaps he would not have that time.

Still, thought Aedan. He closed his eyes and leaned against his shovel and pulled out some jerky. That savoury, meaty taste rolled about in his mouth while Aedan chewed. It was duller than he remembered, but he still sighed through his nose and smiled. At least he had this back.

"Thank you. I mean it," said Aedan after he had finished chewing.

"I'm going to blush. Are you going to get down on one knee and propose?" replied Alistair.

"I think Morrigan would be quite angry," laughed Aedan back.

The witch in question leaned against a nearby tree. Morrigan gagged at the two's conversation. "I do ask that you two hurry up. Tis unlikely your guardsman friend can hide the queen for much longer."

Alistair drove his shovel into the soil once again. The shovel reverberated in his hands. The templar sifted the soil aside to reveal what he had found and exclaimed, "Is this it?" The templar picked up the rock and turned it over in his hand. A carved smile beamed back at him.

"This is what we needed to dig up?" scowled Morrigan at Aedan. "Your pet rock? We already have one of those."

From a distance, Shale sneered.

"No, there's supposed to be lambskin package in here." Aedan looked back at the dirt and found a crumpled note beneath where the rock had been. He and Alistair scanned over the contents.

_Aedan,_

_Couldn't risk Howe digging this up. Keeping it safe until you need it. I'll find you._

_-Adair_

Aedan scoffed and crushed the note in his fist."Son of a bitch. "

"Family?"

"Oh no, he tried to kill me once. I captured him and locked him up in a dungeon. We teamed up. He tortured me. Then he went on a suicide mission. Apparently he survived." Aedan rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn't sure whether to smile or scowl.

"He sounds fun," remarked Alistair, "I assume he'll find you."

"I hope so. Best we can do for now."

The others had already gathered by the ruined gates together with horses and tented wagons. Shale sat alone in one wagon pulled by two horses. Morrigan hopped into the back of one hooded wagon, while curiously enough the others all boarded their own horses or another wagon.

"There's more space in this wagon for more people you know. It's more expensive to take more horses," chided Aedan, "Budget's running tight, and Denerim living isn't cheap."

The red-haired bard rolled her eyes, jumped off her horse, and shoved Aedan into the wagon. "Typical man. Dense as a rock," she giggled. Once back on her horse, Leliana whipped the reins and headed off. Though Zevran manned the horse at front, the elf pulled out the curtain separating driver from passenger. The wagon jumped beneath him as they headed down the rocky path.

Morrigan sat against the wall of the wagon, looking the opposite direction of Aedan. Aedan eased himself into a sitting position down next to her. He looked over at Morrigan, still facing away. He yawned and his eyes drooped. Just as they closed, he felt a tug on his knee from Morrigan.

"Hmm?" mumbled Aedan whilst he rubbed his eyes. Though he had not slept at all last night, nor much the previous days, it would do no good to go to sleep in the morning and mess up his already terrible sleep schedule.

Morrigan again tugged again on his knee and frowned at him. Aedan looked at her, then at his own legs."Oh," he said. Aedan spread his legs apart. Morrigan plopped down between them. The witch shifted against his chest as she settled in. "So, does the offer stand to hear some stories from your past, now that you are no longer oh so mysterious?" she asked quietly.

"Now that I'm no longer so mysterious, does that mean I'm not as attractive anymore?"

"Yes, all my attraction towards you has dried up like a toad on a hot day. Tis dreadfully unpleasant for me to sit here." The witch twirled a stray bang of hair as she looked away to the side. "T'would be even more unpleasant if you were to hold me."

Aedan smiled, wrapped his arms around her, and rested his head on the top of hers. The witch struggled not to smile as well, but the side of her mouth twitched a bit upwards. "Ah. Tis most unpleasant."

"I live to see you suffer," said Aedan, kissing the top of Morrigan's head.

"If you were to also give me a foot massage, I would find that unbelievably unpleasant."

"Don't push it."

Morrigan looked back up at him with pouting eyes and slightly puffed out cheeks. Aedan rolled his eyes. "Maybe later."

Morrigan tapped on his arm. "Come. Tell me one of your stories. It will keep you awake and your sleep cycle intact."

His mind wandered through his memories, though he struggled to. His eyes kept closing and Aedan kept shaking himself awake. "This one's a good one," yawned Aedan, "it's got assassins, grumpy drunk elves, stuck up Orlesians, and royal intrigue. So I was at...at my first tournament, and...and what happened again...I was doing pretty badly..."

Aedan trailed off and sunk his face into the back of Morrigan's head. The quietest snore escaped his lips. Despite her previous words regarding sleep, Morrigan tugged Aedan's arms about her tighter, sunk backwards into his warm chest, and closed her eyes as well.

* * *

Eamon blew three times on his tea. Bits of steam puffed out as the top of the black liquid cooled. Present company, however, made enjoying his favorite pastime somewhat difficult. A stray tea leave floated on the surface; Eamon scraped it up against the side of the cup with his finger.

Loghain, fully armored, bit his tongue to resist the temptation to knock the tea out of Eamon's hands. "I will ask you this again," snarled Loghain, "where is my daughter?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Eamon said, hiding his slight grin with his cup. Rarely had he seen Loghain so flustered.

"Aedan Cousland was with you at your house the day before my daughter was kidnapped from Arl Howe's estate-"

"And what, pray tell, was she doing there?" interrupted Eamon, "I certainly hadn't heard from our queen in quite some time."

Without blinking Loghain replied, "She was there temporarily. On my leave."

"You left Anora in Arl Howe's house? Seems like a huge lapse in judgement right there, considering we both know about his...tendencies."

Loghain sneered at Eamon. He crossed his arms and his armor rustled as he did. "I did not think you someone so low as to speak ill of the dead."

Eamon chuckled whilst he handed off his tea to be refilled. "To be fair, I would say the same things about him even if he were alive. Let us both pretend for postures sake that you were the one to put her there."

"Then, Aedan kidnaps her with his associates, then they disappear to Maker knows where-"

"Didn't you arrest him? Seems like everything should be fine now."

"Then he breaks out by setting fire to the damn prison, and now we can no longer find him. Where, pray tell, would he be?"

Eamon glanced at Loghain's side. No sword. He looked back at the two guards stationed by the door. If Loghain had planned on arresting Eamon, he would have brought more. Eamon chose not to glance out the windows. Doing so would alert Loghain's guards to the archers who currently pointed their arrows at Loghain.

"Why not check the old Cousland estate? Perhaps he might be there?"

"We checked that first. No one was there. Besides, I've got someone who actually cares about this damn city monitoring the premises. Sergeant Kylon. Captain of the city guard."

Loghain stood in front of Eamon as the man continued to sip on his tea. Eamon peered up at Loghain and raised an eyebrow. "Something bothering you, old friend?"

"Are you even taking this seriously, Eamon? Or are just going to sit here sipping tea?"

Eamon set down his tea and stood back up. He met Loghain's gaze with his own and furrowed his brow. "I, out of the two of us, am the one taking this seriously."

Loghain laughed, "You honestly think Aedan Cousland can lead this army better than me? I led our armies to victory against Orlais. He's just an amateur; a brat playing at war."

"This is more than a war, Loghain. Back then, we fought men," said Eamon, "Treacherous, conniving men, but men nonetheless. Aedan has fought far worse things than us with far less at his disposal. He has an army, ready to lay down their lives and fight for him."

"That's not the point. A year ago, he lazed about in the Cousland estate, a second-born living off the coat-tails of his parents. You really think a man like that is worth a damn leading a battle-"

"I do," said Eamon, raising his voice. He glared at Loghain with cold eyes. "My village still lives because of how he protected them from your machinations. Stop trying to deface Aedan to satisfy your own self doubt. Stop lying to yourself, Loghain. You know what you did at Ostagar was unforgivable! What you did to Maric's son...no-"

Eamon invoked a name both men loved dearly: "Rowan's son."

Loghain breathing hastened as the anger surged through his veins."How dare you! I protected my country!" shouted Loghain. He pointed his finger at Eamon and jabbed it into his chest. "Just like we did all these years ago! Maric, Rowan, and I!" Loghain stepped in closer and seethed, "Or did you forget that after you married the enemy's daughter, you traitor?"

Eamon slapped away Loghain's hand, and clenched his fist tight. It hovered in the air for only a second before Eamon released his fist, instead choosing to point at the door. "Get out. Now."

"Fine! I'll find Aedan, one way or another!" Loghain swatted Eamon's tea set into the floor. The fine china shattered against the oak wood. The dark tea seeped through the cracks and soaked into the carpet. Even some of Loghain's guardsmen grimaced and shared furtive glances. "I've got the captain of the city guard scouring the streets for him! One way or another, I'll find my daughter and bring this country together!"

Loghain threw open the door and stormed out, with his guards in quick pursuit. Left alone in his greeting room, Eamon picked up the remains of his tea set. He turned over a broken piece between his fingers and sighed. Loghain had not even recognized his own gift.

* * *

Captain Kylon unlocked the back door to the old Cousland estate and gave a long, tired groan that seemed to last whole minute."Please, come in, all of you. You're only just risking my livelihood and reputation."

"Still as grumpy as ever, Kylon," remarked Aedan as the rest of his companions entered the building.

"Still giving me a headache as usual, Aedan."

"I'm hurt."

"Good," said Kylon, "Half my day has been spent diverting guardsmen away from you and your companions. That's incredibly difficult when you travel with a gigantic fucking war golem."

Shale shifted in place and placed her craggy hands on her waist. "I do not look..wide do I?"

"No no no Shale, he's simply remarking on the size of your fists," cooed Wynne, who patted Shale on her arms.

"Good. People should fear them." Shale smashed her fists together lightly. A small tremor shook the house. Kylon whipped his glare at Shale. The golem grumbled and shuffled into the house.

"Anyways," announced Aedan to rest his companions, "welcome to the Couslands' Denerim estate...or what's left of it anyways. Kylon will tell Loghain we're not here, but try not to go outside for now."

Indeed, little furniture remained that Aedan remembered. All the paintings had been taken down, revealing a rather drab shade of white. A thick layer of dust coated everything in the house. Aedan prayed that none of them sneezed, lest the dust become airborne and consume the building.

"Rather sparse for a noble's estate," remarked Alistair. "Did Howe sell the belongings?"

"Actually there was a break-in around the time you rolled into town, Aedan- and then it turns out the goods were sold on the black market by what was described to me by the fence as 'a terrifying drunk juggernaut and a sexy pirate with no pants'." Kylon faked a laugh. "I wish I was making this up."

The former noble shrugged. "All's well that ends well."

"I had to listen to that snake Howe yell over and over again about the abysmal state of our city's security- and then my paycheck got lowered. Thanks," grouched Kylon.

"Sorry," Aedan nervously rubbed his ear and patted Kylon on the back. "I'll pay you back later."

"Just save us all from rampaging darkspawn, and we'll call it even."

"Will do."

A resounding knock shook the door, followed by two quieter ones. "And it looks like our guest of honor has arrived," said Aedan. He turned to the others. "There's a lounge further down. You guys can wait there while Eamon and I talk with Anora."

Whilst the others cleared out of the greeting room, Erlina walked in with Eamon and a hooded figure behind her. The elf took one look at the ransacked estate, blinked, then immediately set off to find a dustpan.

"Eamon," greeted Aedan.

"Aedan, good to see you in one piece," chuckled Eamon, "You had me worried for a bit."

Kylon shut the door and deadbolted it. The light quickly dissipated from the room as he went around closing each window. The captain peeked through the cracks in each one, before declaring,"Nobody's watching. You can take off the hood, Queen Anora."

Anora pulled back hood and pulled off her cloak. In a heartbeat Erlina was there to take it off her hands then fold it neatly. Anora dusted off a nearby wooden chair with her hand with three quick swipes, then sat down with perfect posture.

Aedan searched for his seat: he hid his grin when he saw his favorite chair was still there. Aedan controlled himself and carefully sat down in the chair with poise. While no longer a noble, appearances should at least be kept in front of other nobles. He desperately wanted turn over onto his belly and slouch in the chair, but instead stood up straight and greeted Anora with a bow of the head. "Queen Anora."

"Warden Aedan," greeted Anora back.

"So where'd you hide her out, Kylon?" asked Aedan.

"Well, where's the one place you'd last think to look for our tight laced queen?"

"You took her to the Pearl? Oh Maker, she must have loved that."

Anora cleared her throat. At that, Kylon saluted Eamon and waved goodbye to Aedan. Once the door closed behind him, Anora turned to speak to the warden. "Aedan. I'd like to thank you for the restraint you showed in getting me here. I know that you made a personal sacrifice to ensure my safety, and that will not be forgotten."

"Thank you," nodded Aedan.

"So, business?" said Eamon. Just as Eamon said that, Erlina zipped over with a fresh pot of tea and biscuits on a platter, having somehow managed to find some in all the mess. With a dustpan at her side, Erlina immediately set about cleaning the surrounding room whilst the others talked.

"Sugar or milk, Anora?" asked Eamon whilst he dropped a cube in his cup.

"No thank you, Eamon, I take mine without," replied Anora.

Eamon picked up his cup of tea and asked, "So, what do you want from us, Anora?"

"What we all want. A united Ferelden to face the Blight. To that, we need a ruler."

"We have a candidate," said Aedan, "Alistair."

Anora smiled. If it was anyone else besides the queen of Ferelden, Aedan would simply brush it off. The smile was almost perfectly symmetrical, with only a slight upwards tug at the right end as to not make it seem unnatural. Years at court had taught Anora the perfect smile. Controlled. That was the word Aedan would describe Anora as. The way not a single stray hair poked out of her blonde bun. How her blush did not overpower her pale face, but accentuated what color she had. How smoothly she picked up the tea, sipped it, and set it down, without so much as clatter of the tea cup or change in her posture.

"I had heard that you were fond of jokes, Aedan, but when it is the future of our country at stake, I never kid. Alistair is inexperienced, and does not have the poise needed to lead our country. He is an exceptional Warden no doubt. But a Warden does not mean a good politician."

"You're of commoner blood," said Eamon, "I particularly don't care about that, but many of the nobles do. How will the countless nobles plotting to overthrow you help the stability of our country?"

"Lineage is simply that. It does not inherently make someone better for rule. Experience does. The nobles will fall in line when their provinces prosper."

"Experience is something that can be obtained," added Aedan, "Blood is not. So while we give the image of strong king with Alistair's blood, we teach him to rule. In the meanwhile, we set him up with advisors to delegate parts of the work."

"So you care more about the image of a king than the actual management?" said Anora, "Can I not prove my strength through deeds? More importantly, have I not these past five years? My husband was a great man, but he did not run this kingdom.  _I_  did."

"Yet he still gave the image of a strong king," said Aedan, "The people loved him. They mourned him. Loghain used his death to hunt down my order, and people listened. He used his death to secure power in an uncertain time, and people bowed. People will do much for a king they believe in, regardless of whether their beliefs are false."

"Belief is simply that. It does not allocate tax revenues to aid the right refugees in the right regions. It does not negotiate loans from other countries to repair our broken cities. It does not stave off the vultures of Orlais with treaties. Do not forget that I am well loved by the people as well. Not all them are fools that think Cailan ruled alone."

"Advisors and bureaucrats can play the role you play in court, and Alistair's blood and heroics more than make up for any goodwill you may have garnered during your rule. I want to know what you have to offer us."

"Let's not play games, Aedan. You know that I'm your best bet at fixing this country after the Blight. You care too much about people to let them fall into ruin after the Blight. You keep talking about blood being a strong symbol, so you're pushing the idea of Alistair on the throne- but at the same time, you know that I need to be on the throne to help this country, so why-"

Anora's eyes narrowed at Aedan. The side of her well-controlled smile twitched. Her gaze shot towards Alistair at the end of the hallway, who bickered with Oghren over a towering platter of cheese and crackers. Her gaze returned to land on Aedan.

"Please, no."

"It's the best option, and you know it."

Eamon too turned to the warden with a terse smile. Through slightly gritted teeth he said, "Would you excuse us, Anora? I'd like a word with Aedan in private."

"Please do."

Once Aedan and Eamon had adjourned to the nearby hallway, Eamon's smile disintegrated. The man paced back and forth in front of Aedan with his hands behind his back. He said nothing for awhile, until finally he asked, "Have you even consulted Alistair on this?"

Aedan took a step back to lean against the wall. His arms crossed in front of him. He needed to consider his words carefully. After all, Eamon was his only ally in the nobility so far. "Not yet, but just let her think we're allying with her for now at least. We need her information right now for more ammunition against Loghain."

Eamon scratched at his jaw and narrowed his eyes. "So, you're not seriously suggesting anything?"

The warden tilted his head back and forth as he looked away. "I'm suggesting we have as many cards for when we play our hand."

"Anora is a exceptional person, with a great love for her country, but we don't need her."

"You alone cannot help Alistair when this is all over."

"How about you? Certainly with with your help as well..."

I'll be dead, thought Aedan, so probably not. He did not however voice that, instead he replied, "Most likely, as the last remaining Ferelden Grey Warden not occupied by royal business, I'll be killing the last vestiges of the Blight. I won't have time for the court."

"There is also the fact that…" Eamon stopped to clear his throat, then spoke a little softer, "she did not manage to produce any children yet, and children are very big factor in preserving a bloodline."

Ah. There it was. Eamon claimed not to care about blood, but Aedan knew he cared deeply for the Calenhad bloodline. He didn't think Eamon particularly disliked Anora, but facts were facts. A heir needed to be produced and Anora had produced none. All her hard work and passion were ignored for simply this.

"I think Alistair is a testament that you don't need be born of a queen to take the throne," stated Aedan, "Worst comes to worst…well, I doubt Cailan was completely faithful."

Eamon sighed. "And what of Alistair's opinion of this?"

"I will talk to him about this. I won't make him do anything he doesn't want, but I'll try to make him see reason. I'm just trying to have as many options as possible right now."

Eamon stroked his beard in thought. After some time pondering, Eamon relented, "Very well. If you can secure this alliance, I do agree this would be the best option. She is capable and loved by the people. Let us see what Anora thinks."

Aedan and Eamon returned from the hallway and sat back down in the living room with Anora, each taking a quick breath before doing so. Eamon addressed Anora: "After talking it over with Aedan...we would like to offer an alliance. You marry Alistair, and we support your bid for the throne."

"Marrying Cailan's brother...not what I expected to get out of today." Anora took a deep breath. "The resemblance doesn't help." She picked up her tea cup and took a extra long sip, breaking eye contact with Aedan as she did so. Her eyes narrowed in thought. She tipped the cup back a little more, then set it back down. It rattled slightly, unlike before.

"I will not simply be a 'wife'," stated Anora, "This will be a full partnership. I am tired of being overshadowed by my lessers, being limited by silly formalities. If I am to wed him, it will be as his equal monarch."

Eamon and Aedan shared a look. Eamon nodded once. Aedan turned back to Anora and nodded as well. "That sounds more than reasonable."

"Give me time to consider this. I would also like to hear Alistair's opinion on this as well. If he is not consenting, I shall not either. I know Alistair has no great love for my father, and I will not spend my ruling days with my husband glaring at me."

"Agreed. I'll talk to him," said Aedan.

The three sat in silence while they all sipped their tea simultaneously. As they all put their cups down, Anora remarked, "I am sure you have more important business to attend to, Eamon, than chatting here with us. I would have a word alone with Aedan. Not business, just personal."

Eamon tilted his head a bit and frowned. Nevertheless, he made his way to the door and bowed his head once. "By your leave, Anora," he said, before shutting the door behind him. Once the door had shut for a sufficient amount of time, Aedan asked, "What do you wish to speak about, without Eamon?"

Anora's, who usually placed her hands neatly on her lap, now wrung them together. "I would speak of my father."


	58. Weaknesses

Anora poured herself another cup of tea. "You and my father are very similar."

Aedan narrowed his eyes, crossed his arms, and leaned backwards in his chair. "If that is your attempt at a compliment, please remember what your father has done."

With a single raised eyebrow, the queen replied, "I have heard of your exploits, so I'll reiterate: you two are very similar."

"So you've heard about Orzammar," sighed Aedan. He looked down at the floor and grimaced. "Tell me, is it a well known thing above the surface?"

"Not at all. The dwarves value their privacy, and we only found out that Bhelen took the throne and killed House Harrowmont a few weeks ago. If our sources are correct, then you were the one who put him in power, and were thus privy to his decision to kill the entire House."

Aedan said nothing for awhile. He stared at the ground whilst wringing his hands. No doubt there was those who escaped the slaughter of the house. Aedan recalled the woman in Dust Town who had called him a monster. He wondered if those remaining Harrowmont survivors would call him the same. He looked back up at Anora. "I made a choice: a dwarven army, as well as stability for their own kingdom, in exchange for those lives. I regret I had to make that decision, but I would do it again."

"I am not judging you, Warden," replied Anora. She blew on her tea and took another sip. "I have no right to judge you. I was not there. I have not seen the things you have. I have barely been in battle myself. By the same logic, I would not trust other nobles or soldiers to judge my father. The common soldier does not understand the complexity of the decisions he has had to made, and the nobles do not understand the hardships he has gone through. You, a former noble and a current Grey Warden, understand both however."

Anora set her tea down slowly. Anora hesitated and swallowed, despite not having tea in hand. "Most of all, he has wronged you the most. He betrayed you and your order. He branded you a criminal and sent assassins after you. He allied with the man who killed your family. He had you tortured. You are perhaps the only one who understands the depths of his crimes, and why he made them."

She looked over at the Warden. He saw her cheek twitch as she bit the inside of her lip. "Are you going to kill him? Like you killed Howe?"

"Howe had to die. He killed my family out of greed. He was going off the deep end, abducting and killing innocents. If you saw even for a second what he- what he did-"

_Maggots squirming, rotted bodies, dried blood, I should have been there-_

Aedan covered his face with his hand and rubbed his eyes. His heartbeat quickened.

"My father is not Howe," said Anora, "but he is also not the man he once was...but he could be again, if you give him the chance. I simply ask that you take that into consideration."

"If he is so similar to me, then I will judge him as harshly as I judge what I have done."

"Is that a good or bad thing?"

Aedan sighed and pulled out his flask. It'd been too long since his last drink. Decorum be damned. He swigged from his flask. "That's your answer."

"You mind?" asked Anora, pointing at the flask and back to her.

"It's whiskey, you sure?" Aedan slid the flask across the living room table.

"Good," said Anora, tipping her head back and taking a shot, "I need something strong." The queen, much to Aedan's surprise, stopped sitting upright and leaned back in her chair. Her right ankle crossed over onto the top of left knee. She slide the flask back to Aedan.

"Long day?"

"Long year."

"Too true," breathed Aedan, downing another swig of the whiskey. "I'm surprised that you would drink in the presence of company."

"I present the right image to the right people- Eamon for one. I have no doubt that he would see me thrown away if it suited the Calenhad bloodline."

"And to me?"

"I rather think you don't care." Anora made a little a laugh and smiled at Aedan. "Aedan Cousland...well adept at charming nobles, but always kept away from court. Has a tendency for drinking and tomfoolery, which some may look down upon. Second-born, so holds less influence in the courts, but still a Cousland, so still quite a lot. Despite his potential for being a major player in the nobility, he instead chooses to perfect his physical skills. Of course, this is what I heard of you before the Blight started from your mother. I believe the words 'brat' and 'glutton' were also used, but I that was more motherly endearment."

Aedan rubbed the back of his neck and looked out the window. He smiled a little. "Of course she said that."

Anora picked up her teacup again, She looked at it wistfully and sighed. "We used to drink tea together and meet up to talk politics, Eleanor and I. I still remember what she used to take. A dab of cream-"

"And one cube of sugar. A little sweet, a little smooth," finished Aedan. He took a single cube from the ones on the table. He flicked at it with his fingers, then popped it into his mouth. The warden frowned. Too sweet.

"Did Eleanor ever speak of me?" asked Anora.

"Anora Mac Tir. Strong, driven, passionate, and most of all, knows how to write a very sternly worded letter. A politician through and through, but a good-hearted one."

"Good hearted is not the word most people would use to describe me."

"I did put 'politican' ahead of it, so it cancels out...you know, all this sentimental talk about my mother could just be you trying to butter me up as one my allies, only to backstab me later. I get stabbed a lot."

"And you might simply be joking about this alliance with me, and plan to throw me away me at the first chance you get. I get plotted against a lot."

Aedan laughed. Anora chuckled back. He took his flask, poured out half into glass, and handed it to Anora. The queen clinked her glass against his. "Cheers."

Aedan raised his glass. "Cheers." The warden tipped his glass back and savoured the familiar taste of whiskey. A warm feeling radiated from his chest. He looked back Anora, who surprisingly took her alcohol well. Usually by now Alistair would be cringing at the taste of the whiskey, but Anora simply wiped a single stray droplet from her lips and exhaled slowly through her nose.

"What would you have done at Ostagar?" asked Anora rather abruptly and in a quieter tone. The warden grimaced and took a deep sigh. Whilst he pondered, he held his glass up in front of his face and swirled the golden-brown alcohol about. "We could not win Ostagar. I saw that horde...but I think we could have saved Cailan."

"How many would it have taken?"

"Enough to ensure he got out of there safely. The horde was massive. A hundred or so men might have been able to accomplish it."

"You would throw away a hundred lives for one?"

"We've lost more than that in the chaos left by Cailan's absence. The civil war, Uldred's rebellion, and the tragedy of Redcliffe, both directly resulted from Loghain's actions. Perhaps in peacetime, the loss of a leader would be acceptable, but not in a Blight."

Aedan smiled sadly as he saw Anora peered at him with eyes you could barely tell were narrowed. Her mouth lay slightly agape. Her body shifted in her chair a bit to the right so it no longer directly faced him. Inside that head of hers, she did the same as him: calculating, planning, evaluating. No doubt she weighed her father and him in her mind. She had as much a choice to make as to who to support- and when a man told you he'd sacrifice a hundred men for one, Aedan couldn't blame her for reevaluating.

"Another time, Anora," said Aedan. He placed his empty glass on the table and pocketed his flask. "The sun's starting to set. I'd like to see how much remains of my former estate."

* * *

"Well, we didn't stay here often," said Aedan, "but you could consider it my room."

Aedan opened the door to his old room, brushing the dust off of the door knob before doing so. Morrigan walked in behind him and peered about. The way she explored about almost reminded Aedan of a cat in a new environment.

Morrigan plopped down on the bed while continuing to scan the room. Most of the valuables had been ransacked. Open drawers held nothing but some old clothing. Overturned books lay scattered on the floor. She kicked at one of the books to flip it over. An Overview of the Orlesian War, by Brother Genitivi, and next to it, Battles and Blades: Analysis of Greatest Battles of Thedas. Morrigan picked up one of Aedan's old shirts and held it up over her own torso and stifled a laugh. The shirt would barely fit her.

"Tis hard to believe you were ever this small," she said, "Is there perhaps a matching sword and shield for someone of this size? Most likely you were probably swinging one around at that age."

"What is it with you people thinking I was born with a sword and shield in my hands?" scoffed Aedan. Morrigan stuffed it back into the drawer and continued to peruse around the room. Aedan nervously drummed his fingers against the bed post as the curious Morrigan explored. Her finger glided across an acrylic painting that hung crooked on the wall.

"What is this?"

"...A painting of fruit."

"Thank you for your wonderful insight," drawled Morrigan, "Are you such a glutton that you would gaze at pictures of food in your spare time, like a mabari?"

"No. I like the painting. I could just grab food anytime I wanted."

"I wouldn't peg you for liking art. Interesting."

Morrigan peered down beneath Aedan's bed. A shiver ran down his spine, though Aedan didn't know why. He was forgetting something, what was it?

"And what is this?" Morrigan lifted up a black lace women's thong from beneath Aedan's bed. Ice cold eyes stabbed at Aedan. As Aedan glimpsed into the bottomless abyss, his hands went clammy and an unbridled sense of terror ran down his spine. The sides of Morrigan's mouth twisted into a scowl the likes of which he had never seen from her.

This how I die, thought Aedan as a single bead of sweat dripped down the side of his head. The warden gulped, but his mouth had gone dry. Aedan recalled having brought Isabela into this room, the first time he had been back to Denerim, both drunk off alcohol and the thrill of theft. That had been almost a year ago, before he had gotten together with Morrigan. No doubt Morrigan could surmise this article of clothing preceded them, but she would still fume regardless.

Aedan exhaled slowly and and leaned back against the wall. If he had learned anything with Morrigan, it was never to falter. Aedan forced himself to grin. "What does it look like?" he teased, "You tell me. Looks like some sort of cloth to me. Perhaps decorative, like the fruit painting."

Morrigan's mouth twitched. "You're a pig."

"Some-one's-jea-lous," cooed Aedan. He started walking towards Morrigan. The witch jumped a little and dropped the underwear onto the floor and took a step backwards.

"Why would I be? We are not such prudes that neither of have taken a lover before this. I simply do not leave the evidence lying around like a sloppy mabari."

"A lover? What's going on in your head? Those are mine." Aedan rubbed his bottom and grinned, this time for real. "Some days I like to wear silky underthings. Let the little guy breathe a little. Where's your mind going?"

Morrigan's back thudded against the door. The frame rattled. Aedan propped his hand against the frame as he stood over the witch. "Are you imagining me ripping off someone else's bottom? Slamming them up against this door?"

"N-no," retorted Morrigan.

Aedan watched the witch with a smile. Her hands fidgeted against the door. As she ground her front teeth, they bared and peeked from beneath her lips. She glared back at him, her face flushed.

"Has anyone ever told you how much fun it is to tease you?"

"You. Several times."

"...Oh, yeah, I guess I have." Aedan looked down at Morrigan and gently lifted her chin. "Don't worry. You've said it yourself, I'm like a mabari. We don't tend to wander." Aedan planted a kiss on her lips.

"I do not care. You are not mine and I am not yours. I simply do not wish to share whilst I am still using something," muttered Morrigan with crossed arms.

Leaning in, Aedan whispered in Morrigan's ear, "And what pray tell do you wish to use me for?" He felt Morrigan inhale against his neck. Her lips leaned in and brushed against his skin. Aedan leaned back out, then stared into Morrigan's eyes. Aedan remembered the last time he had been with her, and not just simply slept by her side. The frenzied breaths, the feel of her around him, her hands clutching at him. The memory overtook Aedan and he pressed into Morrigan's lips. The two shared a series of heated kisses- short, soft, sweet. After the third, Morrigan glanced away and bit her lip. Despite him staring straight forward, Morrigan would not look him in the eyes. Her hand clung to his chest, pulling and pushing simultaneously. Aedan smiled and embraced her in a hug. He still remembered how Morrigan talked of being overwhelmed by her emotions, that night when they had separated after Orzammar. Aedan felt her uncertain heart racing as her chest pressed against his.

"At your pace, okay?" he whispered in her ear. He kissed her once on the forehead, released her from his grasp, and opened the door. "Come on. Let's eat." Morrigan nodded once and gave him a quick peck back in thanks.

After Aedan had departed, Morrigan stood against the door frame and let her breath and heart die down. He was right, it was best that she not let herself be overwhelmed. Still, Morrigan rubbed her lips as her chest twinged with slight disappointment. Her eyes wandered back down to the offending object. She scowled at the black thong left on the floor. With a blink of her eyes, it burst into flames and crumbled into ash.

* * *

Her stomach growled. The woman sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes and looked over at Aedan. For some reason, when Aedan had first sat down on the bed, he had that same look in his eyes as back in Highever. He had trembled briefly and gazed into the distance, then forced himself to lay still as a plank beneath the sheets. The last time she had seen him lay in a bed was when her mother had brought the wounded man into their hut. Even now as he slept, Morrigan watch his eyelids and fingers twitch. His lips mouthed quiet words she could not make out.

Morrigan's stomach rumbled again. She lit a small flame at the edge of her finger to help guide her through the darkness of the room. She did not need to move far down the hallway to find the kitchen- Aedan's room had been placed relatively close by. No doubt in his younger days Aedan had chosen it for that specific reason.

Morrigan opened the door to the kitchen to find two others there: Wynne and Oghren, a rare combination. The witch's eyebrows lifted. Wynne sat with filled pint glass in hand. Oghren meanwhile was filled up his own mug with more ale from a keg. Morrigan had always seen Oghren lugging that forsaken thing around. The dwarf raised his glass to her and gave a hearty grin. "Swamp witch! Try some of my ale!"

"I would sooner drink poison." The witch instead grabbed a leftover dinner roll from a tray left on the table. She took a seat next to Wynne such that the elder mage sat between her and the drunken dwarf.

"Technically alcohol is a poison- but it only kills the bad stuff!" laughed Oghren.

The witch bit off a piece of the slightly buttery roll and spoke without turning to Wynne. "I am surprised that you would drink his...swill."

"Say what you will, but Oghren can brew a mighty fine ale." Wynne took a small, calm sip, whereas Oghren chugged his glass then got more from his cask.

"So, things are going well between you and the big guy," giggled Oghren, "Sharing quarters and all that."

"Tis simply a return to the previous arrangement. Nothing more, nothing less."

"So tell me, since you can morph into a dog, is your favorite position-"

Morrigan lit a small flame at the edge of her fingers and pointed it at Oghren. "Careful with your next words, dwarf. I bet there is enough alcohol soaked into that beard of yours for me to light it on fire and have it explode and kill you." The dwarf drunkenly laughed and chugged another pint of ale, despite the fire mere inches from his face. Morrigan cringed as a bit of the foamy liquid splashed onto her face. Perhaps she ought to set fire to him now anyways.

"So what do you think of our new ally, the queen?" asked Wynne.

"Tis odd that you would ask me such a thing," replied Morrigan. "I barely know her or her regime."

"It would be interesting to get an outsider's opinion."

"She uses whatever she can to get what she wants, and what she wants is the throne. She is a woman of singular purpose. I respect her drive to take the throne, despite not having any real claim to it."

"You respect her?"

"As much as I respect anybody who wishes to control a useless bunch of politicians who squabble whilst a Blight knocked on their door...but still, a slight modicum of respect. I suppose being a queen is a suitable goal. Tis power in it's own way. And you?"

"She has been a good leader of Ferelden these past five years...but she is still Loghain's daughter. I am wary of her intentions."

Oghren let a huge belch rumbled through the air. He slapped his belly and kicked back in his seat. "I don't care who gets the throne, as long as I get a big party afterwards for good ole Oghren. Either the man-boy gets put on or the ice queen, but either way I'm getting my booze. What do you ladies want for your reward for killing that big dragon-thingy? Cause you know, I'm always willing to break off a piece of the Oghren for you." Oghren raised his eyebrows repeatedly and grinned. Both women gagged on their food.

"I will settle with stopping the Blight, first off. I do not think I will live longer after that. I am old, and I have already died once."

"Tis easier not to dwell on the future," mused Morrigan, "For once I agree with you."

"Oh you two are no fun. How about a mountain of gold, or a statue made in your honor? Dream a little, ladies! Wynne, we could commission the finest artist to finally sculpt that magical bosom of yours."

"Suddenly my ale does not taste as good," remarked Wynne as she put down her pint glass.

"And you swamp witch! Always going on about power, power, power. They've probably got some ancient magical doo-hickey you want."

"What stunning logic," drawled the witch.

"Or perhaps you're planning on having some little Morrigans running around? Stone knows we could use a couple of Aedans too- two more Blights after this one," snickered Oghren.

"Enough." Morrigan abruptly sat up and left the room. Her pace hastened with each step down the dark hallway. All this talk of the future made her chest tighten.

The day of the ritual drew ever nearer. Morrigan had not expected them to gather the armies so soon. For once, she lamented how capable Aedan was. Who would have thought he could have done all this?

Morrigan opened the door to Aedan's room. Somehow in his sleep he had managed to sprawl his limbs everywhere. The once neat sheet and blankets now twisted into hills and valleys of soft Ferelden cotton. Morrigan pulled back the sheet and settled back next to Aedan in the bed. The man grunted half-asleep as Morrigan lay her head down on his arm like a pillow. The witch tilted her head to watch the man sleep and the rise and fall of his breathing. She brushed her finger against his prickly stubble and smiled. She'd have to remind the man to shave in the morning.

How many mornings left do we have? The Landsmeet will occur in a week or two, then the armies must march to meet, perhaps another week or so for that...and then we will no doubt find the beast itself. A month, thought Morrigan. She clutched Aedan's arm tight. Only a month.

Her mind wandered to Oghren's comment: an image of Aedan and her holding a baby in their arms together. Morrigan bit her lip. She couldn't get distracted. The child was a thing of necessity, not of want. If she confused one for the other, her path would be clouded. She chided herself mentally, but her eyes wandered to the man on whose arm she rested. Her lips unconsciously parted and her hand lingered over her fluttering stomach, close to her womb. Her inner thighs rubbed together.

Morrigan fidgeted in place, and her elbow brushed up against Aedan's side. "Still awake?" yawned Aedan. He rolled over and kissed her lightly on the lips.

_At your pace, he says...he does not know what little time we have left._

Just as he was about to roll back over, Morrigan pulled him back to kiss her again. Her hands wrapped about his torso as she let her lips part and let the kiss deepen. She drew back and stared at him with wanting eyes. Aedan hands grasped her shoulders, and Morrigan could feel his fingers fumble. Aedan swallowed, attempting to restrain himself, but Morrigan nuzzled into his neck and breathed one long, heated, hazy breath against his skin. She slid her hands beneath his shirt. Her lips dragged against his neck as she nodded once.

_No matter what, I will do what needs to be done. I will cut off that which makes me weak._

At that, Aedan rolled Morrigan onto her back. The last vestiges of his self-control gone, Aedan threw his shirt off and proceeded to tear Morrigan's clothing from her body. His hands wandered over every inch of her. Her skin tingled at his touch and her body arched against his.

_So for now, while I still can, even it overwhelms me-_

Their lips only parted for heated gasps at air. Her hips grinded against him, and in response Aedan dragged his hands down against her pale skin and grasped her by the hips. Morrigan shuddered in anticipation as she felt him brush up against her entrance.

_I will allow myself this one weakness._

Then he rammed into her, and her mind melted to a hazy white of pleasure.


	59. Names

_A little blood dribbles out as the sword plunges through her chest. I was just laying in my bed, just laying there like nothing was wrong and then everything went wrong. Rotted bodies staring back at me, accusing me._

_"You couldn't protect us," they whisper. "How can you protect them? How can you protect her?"_

_"Who are you without your responsibility? Just a drunk with a sword, that's what," they slither, their decrepit hands dragging him down into the lake of blood-_

Aedan bolted up in the bed and clutched at his racing heart. I'm not there I'm not there. His clammy hands patted down the side of his bed for his sword. Aedan gripped the handle in a death vice. He clenched his teeth then took deep, pained breaths. The scars in his right arm throbbed. Aedan reached for his flask and took a swig. Just a little bit, just enough to help him calm down. Aedan set his flask down, wiped his sweaty brow, then felt for the flask to take another sip.

This was his first night in an actual bed since that night in bed engulfed him like a pool of water. The sheets were silky smooth like the backside of a well-made blade. His pillow swallowed the backside of his head, as though trying to suffocate him.

Yet there was at least one good thing here. Aedan rolled over and looked over at the woman quietly slumbering next to him. He placed his palm on the top of Morrigan's head and ran his fingers through her soft black hair. Morrigan didn't wear her hair down often- the frequent fireballs she cast threatened to singe anything not tied up. He took a sole strand and rolled it between his fingers.

A small electric shock zapped his side, eliciting a yelp from Aedan. Morrigan rustled against Aedan. "Stop messing up my hair, fool." Her eyelids drooped as she rested her head on his arm.

"What else am I supposed to do when I can't sleep except bother you?" Aedan brushed aside a stray bang from Morrigan's face.

"Figure out how to sleep, I'm sure you're smart enough," mumbled Morrigan.

Aedan pulled the drowsy Morrigan closer with his arm. In response she nuzzled her head into it. A few minutes later, a single gentle snore escaped Morrigan's mouth. Aedan smiled. When he could not sleep, Aedan used to simply sit alone by the campfire. The fire would flicker and flare and the smoke would blow in his eyes. Morrigan reminded him of the campfire- in her waking hours she blazed like a fire- harsh, bright, blinding, but now she simply lay there imparting a gentle warmth to Aedan.

His smile wavered. If he was dead, he couldn't feel this. This warmth of her skin against his. The gentle rise and fall of her chest. Aedan shook his head. There was no point to thinking on what-ifs. He would be dead soon. He should simply enjoy what he had while he still could.

Would it hurt? Aedan closed his eyes and concentrated on the void of darkness beneath his shut eyes. Someone once told him that it would simply like it was before he was born- remembering and feeling nothing. It would be good. It had to be good. Nothingness meant no pain, no fighting, and no suffering.

Aedan lost in his thoughts barely noticed the sun trickling through the broken windows of his room.

* * *

For today's mission, Aedan had selected Morrigan, Alistair, and Leliana. Bringing in too large a force might alert whoever was operating in the Alienage. Out of all the members, these three were the least conspicuous, and covered most of the combat bases- Morrigan handled the magic, Leliana handled the spywork and archery, and he and Alistair would handle the front lines.

Aedan rubbed the back of his neck in irritation. All they had to go on was Anora's vague hunch: tumors had swirled about unrest in the alienage and a plague, as well as the possibility of Loghain's involvement. Being the queen of Ferelden, one would think she could gather more information than that.

Speaking of the throne. Aedan rolled his shoulders a bit to loosen them up. He quickened his pace so that he and Alistair were in front of Morrigan and Leliana. "So, Alistair, what do you think about Anora?"

Aedan knew Anora and Alistair would be strongest force to rebuild Ferelden in the days to come: Anora to manage the kingdom, and Alistair to inspire the people...but if it came down to it, if Alistair opposed it, Aedan would not make him marry Anora, nor take the throne. He owed his friend that much.

Alistair scratched his chin and shrugged. "Sort of cold and harsh. She seems a lot like her father."

 _That does not inspire confidence._  The warden cleared his throat. "I mean-" Aedan leaned into Alistair's ear, out of earshot of Morrigan. "-as a woman."

Alistair scrunched his brow. "I mean she's pretty enough I guess. What brought this on?" The templar wrapped his arm around Aedan's shoulder. With a grin, Alistair snickered, "The old ball and chain not satisfying you?"

"I can hear everything you fools are saying when you whisper," said Morrigan from behind the two. "Why you two have not learnt this lesson, I do not know."

"Yes, just like I could hear everything you two were doing last night." Alistair glared once at Aedan than at Morrigan. "Thanks for telling me about how thin the walls are by the way."

"It's just guy talk," said Aedan who stared at Morrigan and gave her a small nod. "Just talking about things that are essential to talk about." Morrigan rolled her eyes, but silently mouthed 'Fine.' Aedan sighed in relief- it seems she had gotten the gist of Aedan's goal.

Morrigan forced herself to stop frowning. "Very well-"

"Oh are we talking about the woman around us now?" interrupted Alistair. "You know, that girl you've been seeing recently-" Alistair faced Morrigan and spoke a little louder, "she's terrible and I hate her."

"Now who's the mean one," fake pouted Morrigan.

"As if anything I said could hurt you."

"Perhaps you are not as stupid as I thought," said Morrigan, her voice raising, "so above a rock and below a nug."

Seeing as how they were fast approaching the guards in front of the Alienage, Aedan wanted to make as little ruckus as possible. He stepped in between Morrigan and Alistair. "Okay, I'm just going to nip this in the bud. Alistair, please stop. I don't want the guards to give us any kind of a hassle."

Alistair grumbled once before muttering, "Fine."

Aedan turned to Morrigan, who looked at him with crossed arms. "Morrigan, stop."

"I doubt there is anything in the world you could do to get me to stop badgering Alistair. Tis my second favorite thing in the world to do." Morrigan smirked at Alistair. "Apparently Alistair has already heard what my favorite thing to do is."

Whilst the templar gagged, Aedan rubbed his temples. "I don't know, I'll.." Aedan snapped his fingers and pointed at Morrigan. "If you don't, I'll start calling you by some sort of horrible nickname." The warden scratched at his chin. His foot tapped on the ground. I'll think of something."

"Do you honestly think something that childish could possibly wor-"

"Morr-morr." Aedan made a kissy face. "How's my little Morr-Morr."

Morrigan halted mid-walk. She sneered and the side of her mouth twitched. "Do not call me that if you value your life."

Alistair opened his mouth to say the first syllables, but covered his mouth before the rest of the name could leave his mouth. Leliana looked off into the far distance suddenly fascinated with the decrepit apartment buildings.

Aedan snapped his fingers again. "Morri-bear."

Alistair patted Aedan on the back. "You are a braver man than me."

"Please stop," whispered Leliana, "For the good of Ferelden, please stop."

Morrigan continued to glare at Aedan. Aedan smiled at Morrigan's narrowed eyes. "I know that look. That's your 'Aedan is going to pay for this later' look. That's my second favorite look." He leaned over and kissed on the top of her head. "Smoochigan."

Morrigan pushed his face away with her hand and scowled, "I know that look. That's your 'I don't think I'm going to get my comeuppance' look. That's my second least favorite look."

"Is there an 'Alistair is going to pay for this later' look?" piped in Alistair, "It might be in my best interest to figure out when that's going to happen."

"She just verbally berates you. She doesn't really consider you a threat."

"Now who's the hurtful one?"

* * *

With the proper bribe and lack of in-fighting, Aedan and his friends made it past the Alienage guards. Aedan took a big whiff as he entered. It smelled exactly like he remembered it- heavy with dirt, like a old garden with some rotted plants.

"Have you been to the Alienage before?" asked Alistair. He peered around at the rundown apartments and the ill-maintained pavement.

Aedan waved off a couple of flies that wandered too near. Partial clouds of the nuisances wandered all about- Aedan hadn't remembered those. "Many times actually," said Aedan, "Hopefully my friends-"

Before Aedan could finish his sentence, the sounds of stomping feet silenced him. Elves poured into the town square, screaming and carrying torches. Young and old stood united as they crowded in front of a nearby building and protested. Robed men stood outdoors, their skin slightly tanner than those of all present. Tevinter, thought Aedan.

"-are not part of the angry mob."

"If you have any friends, they're bound to be part of an angry mob," said the templar.

Aedan looked at Alistair with a raised eyebrow. Alistair shrugged. "You have chosen an….angry person to spend most of your time with. That guard friend of yours was also the grumpiest person I've ever met. Maker only knows what the rest of your old friends are like."

Aedan held his finger up and opened his mouth to protest, but held his words after a moment of thought. The man grunted under his breath and lowered his finger.

As the group neared the mob, a sole elf broke off to block their progress. "What are you doing here shems? Come to mock the elves in their time of desperation?" The red haired elf crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. With cold eyes the elf waved off Aedan and the others. "Leave. This does not concern you."

"It may not, but I'm here to investigate regardless. I have a source who tells me that this disaster may very well be engineered."

"Oh, so the elves can't take care of themselves? We need the shems to come in and fix everything? Look what happened when we let those so called healers in! Let me tell you something-" The elf's mouth opened wide, a slew of expletives on her tongue, but her eyes glanced over Aedan's face and she paused. She leaned in closer and squinted her eyes. "Wait. I know you." She scratched her head as she continued to observe Aedan.

"I used to come by and-"

"Oh!" Shianni snapped her fingers. She made a motion with her hand as though she was chugging from a bottle. With a grin, she pointed at Aedan. "Dancing man." She pointed at herself and greeted, "Shianni, which you probably don't remember considering I was about half my height and you were drunk all the time."

Aedan covered his slightly flushed face with his hand. He looked off to the side and stammered, "At one point...perhaps some people may have called me that one time many many years ago so that time really isn't relevant- "

Alistair, Morrigan, and Leliana all widened their eyes. "Dancing man?" snickered Alistair as the smuggest grin crept across his face. "Our illustrious leader? Dancing? Please do tell."

Aedan shook his head at Shianni with pleading eyes. The elf smirked and lifted her chin upwards. "He used to come by here all the time and drink with Teharel. The first time he came by, he was so drunk he was dancing with a broom in the town square. All the elves came out, pointed, and laughed at the drunken shemlen and Teharel. I don't think I ever saw you sober...or not doing something stupid-"

Aedan cut her off with a loud cough. Through gritted teeth and reddened cheeks, Aedan muttered, "I'm actually a Grey Warden now, so..."

"Wow, they were really scraping the bottom of the barrel there, dancing man. Do you dance the Remi to scare off the darkspawn?"

Aedan coughed as loud as he could to outweigh the snickering of Alistair. "You can just call me Warden."

Shianni pursed her lips and looked away for a moment, pretending to consider, but gave a toothy grin instead. "No. I like dancing man better."

Morrigan lifted herself up with her toes and leaned her chin on Aedan's shoulder from behind him. "And to think, only a few moments ago, you thought your comeuppance so far away," she cooed in his ear.

"Shut up," mumbled Aedan under his breath.

To that, Morrigan blew softly into his ear, then whispered, "Dancing man, go slay those darkspawn, hmm? With style, of course."

"Dancing man, I have this new song I wrote, would you dance to it?" Leliana covered her smile with her mouth. A stifled giggle escaped her lips. Aedan rubbed his temples and groaned. He would never hear the end of this.

Shianni's smile soon faded, replaced by her previous furrowed brow and frown. "So do you work for that big guy they've been talking about? TheWarden? Maybe you could get him to help us out or something, instead of some fancy drunk noble."

Aedan pointed at himself. "That's one of the nicknames the people have given me."

Shianni froze. "You're THE Warden."

"Unless I'm forgetting killing giant demons and hordes of darkspawn, then yes, that's me."

Shianni blinked twice. The first time she had seen Aedan, he had been running down the streets of the Alienage alongside the equally inebriated Teharel. 'Mommy', she had asked, 'Why isn't that shem wearing pants?'

"Maker help us," breathed Shianni.

Aedan grumbled and rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, regardless of how capable you think I am, we are here to help. We've heard rumors about something suspicious going on in the Alienage that Loghain has had part in. Do you want help or not?"

Shianni looked back over at the mob of elves. Her voice quieted as she said, "To be quite honest, we could really use any help. We're rioting because of this so called plague. People started developing ordinary symptoms, like coughs and sore throats. Then these men in robes come: claims that the Chantry sent them to help cure the 'plague' we had caught. They take the 'sick' into their little compound, and we never see them again. After the first few times, we just chalked it up to the cure not working…" Shianni paused whilst her eyes fell to the ground. She rubbed her eyes for a bit, then looked back up. "Now we've had enough. We want to know what's happening."

Aedan reached over and held her shoulder with his hand. "We'll figure this out. I promise." Shianni nodded in silence. Aedan grimaced. Shianni's eyes were a little red and puffy.

"Have you seen Hijaya, Teharel's daughter?" asked Aedan. He peered over the top of the crowd with the small hope he might see her, but to no avail. "I know her house is on the other side of the Alienage, so it might be a long shot."

"Oh," said Shiani. She bit her lip and looked away. "I'm sorry...they just took her in a week ago."

"Shit." Aedan swallowed the lump in his throat."How about her husband and her kid?"

"Kids now," corrected Shianni. "Jarat is still with the children."

"Okay." Aedan took a deep breath then exhaled slowly. At least her children and Jarat were still safe.

"Warden," said Shianni. The elf wrung her hands and breathed, "I hope you can fix this. Please."

Aedan nodded once in acknowledgement, then turned back to the task at hand. The angry mob still roared in front of the so called clinic. The mages and guards in front stood with hands on their weapons. With their eyes set upon the mob threatening them, Aedan doubted they'd notice him and his friends.

"We can probably sneak past the guards and get in through the back of the house. Better not to involve the crowd in possible violence."

"Yes, and if need be, we have a suitable distraction on hand to keep them off of us," stated Morrigan. Aedan turned to her expecting her answer. In response, Morrigan hummed a lively dancing tune beneath her breath, the hint of a smile at the edge of her mouth. Aedan huffed and grumbled.

* * *

Aedan kicked aside a guard's body as he waltzed into the main room, only to be greeted by the sight of drawn arrows and swords. From what he had gleaned from the guards he had interrogated and spared, this was a slaving operation, and the smiling, ornately dressed man in front of him was their leader, Caladrius. He and his men had "quarantined" and elves that were "infected", and then shipped and sold them off to Tevinter. Aedan scowled at the sight of the slaver leader with his fine jewelry, lush clothing, and his healthy complexion- for right next to him beleaguered elves banged against their cages. Aedan's companions fanned out behind him, but once Aedan took a step forward, he heard the tightening of bowstrings.

"Not one step further," stated Caladrius, "for both of our sakes." He looked up at the warden and locked eyes with him. Despite Aedan's group being armed to the teeth, the man still leisured about the main room, taking the time to inspect the slaves through their cages.

"You're slavers," said Aedan, "You're stealing people from their homes under the pretense of a plague. Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you now."

"I prefer the term  _business men_. People, like anything, are a valuable commodity. Elves truthfully are less so, but money is money." Caladrius rapped his fingers against the cage of his slaves. He gave one of the elves a little wave and smirk. "See, you're like me...a business man. Word has spread all the way to Tevinter of how you've been gathering alliances."

Aedan raised a single eyebrow. "I'd rather you not insinuate I'm like a slaver." He inaudibly tapped his foot twice with his toes against the platform, then finished with a slow tap of his heel. Morrigan saw this and gripped her staff tighter.

" _Business man_ ," emphasized Caladrius, pointing his finger at Aedan and grinning. "Now, if I wanted to be hurtful, I'd call you something like...a bloodthirsty soldier who only knows how to kill- but since we are going to be doing business together, we are both-" Caladrius outstretched his hands in front of him and smiled warmly, " _business men_. Nothing in this life comes free. Everything is paid for, whether by money, time, or blood. You've done your bargaining. Secured your little alliances. Paid your prices."

"So you're implying you have something I want."

"Very much so- a letter signed by the dear Teyrn, allowing us free reign to sell the the elves of the Alienage as slaves. The bloody knife he used to stab your country in the back, if you will. Those nobles at the Landsmeet will eat this up, like dogs with a bone?" The slaver nibbled at his own fingers and chuckled at his own joke.

Aedan scowled at the pompous man. "And what do you want for it?"

"Well, we came here to make a profit. If you want us to leave, you'll have to recoup our profit. Two hundred sovereigns for the letter, and another three hundred for your safety."

Aedan turned round and leaned against the wall with one hand. He stared down at the floor, but from the corner of his eye watched the half dozen men positioned to his left and right. He faced Caladrius once again with his hand on his sword hilt. "Counter offer. I take it from you, for free."

"Counter offer," retorted the Tevinter mage, "I kill you, and continue my business."

"Funny. I was thinking about making the same offer." Aedan tapped his heel three times. Leliana glanced at Aedan's foot, then took aim at Caladrius.

"Great minds think alike."

Leliana let loose an arrow that zipped towards the man's neck. With a wave of his hand, the arrow morphed into a feather and grazed his skin. Caladrius plucked the feather from the air and twirled it between his fingers.

"Do you really think you can defeat me? You dirty Fereldens think you amount to anything? Even now you scramble on the ground like bugs with the Blight having already swallowed half your country. Tevinter will walk over your corpses."

"Kill them all except the prince. I expect his head to have much more value alive than dead."

Six men on each side- Aedan and Alistair chokepointed the stairs to the platform. Arrows zipped towards the four. Morrigan tapped her staff against the ground and a bubble of force pulsed outwards from her. The arrows halted and twitched in mid air. Morrigan tapped her staff again against the floor. The arrows flipped around mid air and zoomed back outwards into the foreheads of those who had shot them.

"Feathers. How cute," smirked Morrigan, "I imagine that must of been your crowning achievement in Tevinter."

With a roar both Aedan and Alistair rammed their shields into the oncoming soldiers, sending them barreling down the stairs. Aedan lept down from the top of the stairs and slammed his sword into a soldier's neck as he landed. In a flurry of steel and flame, Caldrius's men soon fell bloodied to the ground.

"Get back!" screamed Caladrius as the four closed in on him. He waved his staff about, firing off random blasts of fire and ice. Elves screamed as their cages shook from the explosions of elemental energy. Seeing the immediate need to keep the elves safe, Aedan charged at him sword first. Caladrius's eyes glowed ghostly blue, and a wave of frost exploded outwards. The brunt of the blast hit Aedan's sword. Thick icicles hung off the man's blade and snaked towards his hand. Aedan slammed his sword against his shield. Shattered ice crumbled to the ground while Aedan brushed the ice off his still intact sword."I think he just tried to break my sword," grunted Aedan.

"The nerve of some people, really," said Alistair as he shook his head. Right as Caladrius shoved both of his hands forward to cast another spell, Alistair grabbed the man's wrists. The atmosphere rippled about Alistair's hands as Caladrius looked from Alistair and back to his hands, sweat dripping down his face. Alistair sighed as he shoved Caladrius towards Aedan."Should be good for about a minute."

Aedan whacked Caladrius in the face with his shield, and the man crumpled onto the ground. Caladrius held his shattered nose and coughed on the ground.

"What was that about us dirty Fereldens, crawling on the floor?" snarled Aedan. He slammed his foot into the man's stomach. Caladrius wailed as a sickening crunch echoed through the room.

The slaver scrambled on the floor. He looked back up at Aedan with a sweat drenched face and a stammering grin. "What do you want? Money? Power? I am a man of great influence in Tevinter, I can give you whatever you want."

"At the top of my list, I think I'd like there to be one less slaver in the world."

"Think about-"

Aedan wrapped his gauntlet around the man's neck. Effortlessly Aedan hoisted Caladrius up in the air, the Tevinter man's legs dangling like a child as he squirmed about. Aedan let the smell of blood fill his nose, then crushed the man's windpipe beneath his grip. The slaver's body thudded against the floor. The blood dripped down Aedan's arm and onto his chestplate. Aedan flexed his gauntlet and tried to scrape what bits were left off onto the wall.

"Free the elves," grunted Aedan, "I'll search for the evidence he was talking about." Aedan knelt down and caught his breath. He heard the clattering of broken locks fall to the ground. From behind him the freed elves called for their loved ones amongst the horde that had just been freed. An occasional exultant cry from a child and the quiet, happy sobbing of a spouse would echo through the chamber, but mostly Aedan heard the tired groans and aching pants.

The strands of his sweat drenched hair and the droplets of blood blocked his vision through his visor. Moments later, his helm clattered onto the ground. Aedan wiped his face with a dirty cloth. He patted down Caladrius's pockets, and felt the crinkle of paper. He pulled out an envelope made of thick parchment. Aedan scowled as he read it. A official sanction from Loghain allowing the selling of the elves as slaves.

"So it's true...he sanctioned this...even more reason for the bastard to die," remarked Alistair as he read the letter over Aedan's shoulder.

"He must have been trying to refill the treasury. How much money did he and Howe spend?" mused Aedan. No doubt hiring Zevran, bribing officials to stay quiet about Ostagar and Howe's misdoings, and so many other mistakes had dipped into the treasury. He could see the logic behind the decisions, but that didn't change the fact that it was still one mistake to cover up another. Loghain's rule had spiralled out of control.

Mistake after mistake. That was what had led the world here. If the stories were to be believed, it was the mistake of the Tevinter magisters that had brought the Blight upon the world. It was the mistakes of Howe that had ripped Aedan from his home and into the Wardens. Aedan couldn't help but second-guess himself. If Loghain thought everything he himself had done was not a mistake, could Aedan himself be falling into that pattern? Was this, everything Aedan had done, a mistake? He tried to do what he thought was right, but what if he himself was blinded by his own pride?

Aedan peered around at the weary elves clutching each other and running out of the exits back to their family, but heard unfamiliar breathing directly behind him. Aedan's hand instinctively gripped his hilt. Female, medium height, lithe build. As he heard the female exhale, her voice trembled with a slight cough and weary breaths. Slaver? No, they had killed them all. Elf? Wouldn't they want to leave as soon as possible? Why would they want to stay-

"They said you were dead."

Aedan's grip on his hilt loosened. He'd heard that voice so many times whenever he had visited Teharel. He remembered her barking at him and her father to stop cussing, or happily squealing as she spent time together with her husband. Aedan let his hand fall from his hilt as he turned back around. Hijaya stood before him, her skin a little paler and her cheeks thinner. Dirt and blood stained her hair. Hijaya reached her hand out as though to touch him, but stopped mid-way. Her fingers drew back. Her mouth twitched and her eyes fell to Aedan's hands. Aedan smiled sadly as he too stared at the fresh blood that still dripped from his gauntlets.

He coughed into his gauntlet and looked away."It's okay...let's get you home." He lightly reached over then tapped his hand against her shoulder. The elf's eyes glistened. Hijaya wrapped her arms around Aedan's armored torso as best she could.

"Long time no see," she whispered. Her body shifted to avoid the sharp edges of his armor. Aedan's arm hovered over her back, before he let it rest there. He turned his palm away as not to stain her tattered blouse with the scarlet blood upon his hands.


	60. Company

"And then my father flips Aedan over his back, but Aedan's pants get caught on a stray plank in the ceiling." Hijaya wiped the drink from her mouth and stifled her laugh. "So Aedan's pants rip right off as he lands right on his back. Then Aedan lets out a sound like a dying animal and says, I kid you not-". Hijaya sprawled herself backwards over the wooden chair, and imitated a groaning Aedan. "I think I broke my butt bone," she moaned in an overly deep voice.

The table, around which sat all of Aedan's companions, erupted in laughter. A groan escaped from Aedan. "I never should have invited you for dinner here. It's supposed to be a secret we're here after all."

"His butt bone is just sore, that's all," laughed Alistair, slapping Aedan on the back. Oghren giggled incessantly as he poured himself another ale.

"I don't call it that anymore."

"What do you call it then?"

Aedan hesitated, stumbling over his own words."The bone…that's located on my backside."

"Ha!" cried Alistair, thrusting his finger at Aedan with a victorious grin, "He still calls it his butt bone!"

Hijaya motioned to the others with her finger and pointed at Aedan. "Watch. He'll get all grumpy and turn away like it doesn't bother him."

The warden scowled. "I don't do that! I don't-"

"Oh you do," said Wynne without looking up from her food. Aedan grumbled and turned away with arms crossed, muttering something under his breath. The mage leaned back, took a sip of her wine, and gave a knowing smile to Hijaya.

"A more important question- why do so many of these stories end with Aedan's pants coming off?" asked Leliana. Aedan glared at the bard, but the bard simply replied with a devious smirk.

Oghren wrapped his arm around Aedan's shoulder and motioned his other in a wide arc towards the sky. "Imagine, Aedan. In another life, you could have been a stripper at the Pearl."

"Another life?" chuckled Zevran, "Aedan needs a career after the Blight. I will be sure to put in a good recommendation for you- my opinion is highly regarded there. Besides, Leliana and Alistair have told you already have dancing experience."

"Please no," mumbled Aedan under his breath, burying his reddened face in his hands.

"To dancing man!" cheered the rest of the table with raised glasses. Even Sten, despite only drinking water, raised his glass with a smile.

Aedan's forehead banged down upon the table. "Kill me."

* * *

Morrigan leaned on the railing outside on balcony. Zevran, Leliana, Aedan, and even Wynne chanted as Alistair and Oghren attempted to out-chug each other.

"Morrigan, right?"

Morrigan turned to see Aedan's elven friend approaching from behind. Hijaya joined her in leaning on the balcony.

"Tis noisy in there," remarked Morrigan.

Hijaya laughed and looked back at crowded room. "I forgot how loud he could be sometimes."

Morrigan looked back as well. She smiled at the unfamiliar sight- Aedan at the table with others, cheering. "Tis rare to see him so...rowdy."

"He's not normally rowdy?"

"He'll drink, but not often with others. Most of the time he just sort of sits by the fire in silence. It's nice to know before this, he was just a happy fool."

"A fool, but a good man nonetheless." Hijaya looked far out into the distance, all the way towards the Alienage. Days earlier, the lights had been dark there. Now the candles of almost all the households brightened the cityscape. "He helped me and my father greatly."

"He seems fond of you and your father. Why do you remain in the Alienage, if I may ask? You could have leveraged your connection with Aedan's family, gotten yourself out of the Alienage."

"He offered to have us stay on as staff in Highever. Considering what happened in Highever, it seems better that we didn't."

"Well, I don't think you could have known that. At the very least, you could have leveraged him to get a better job. The Alienage is not the best place to be. Why do the elves not simply revolt?"

"We'd die."

"T'would be better to die free than to live subjugated."

Hijaya gave a Morrigan a lopsided grin. "Freedom doesn't keep your family fed. Sure, we don't accomplish much. The apartment is dirty and small, the humans look down upon us and scowl, and life can be hard...but I wake up next to Jarat, hold my children in my arms, and I think…" Hijaya twisted the ring on her finger and beamed. "I'm happy, and that's all that matters."

"Tis not something people like him or I have the luxury of worrying about."

Hijaya turned around to respond to that statement, but by the time she did Morrigan had already left to go inside. Instead Aedan now walked out towards the balcony. Hijaya watched as the Aedan and Morrigan shared a few words in passing, then a quiet laugh. The witch departed down into the hallways of the former Cousland estate, while Aedan leaned on the balcony next to Hijaya.

"She's nice, you know," stated Hijaya. Aedan whipped his head at her then shot her a bewildered glance.

"That's literally the first time I've heard that about Morrigan. Everyone else is "grr apostate" or something vulgar...although mostly that's just Alistair."

"Well not 'nice' nice, but nice for you."

A chuckle passed between the two, followed by silence. The two stood together on the balcony, not sure of what to say next. It'd been years since they'd last spoken.

"You know, if my father knew what you were doing, he'd be very proud," said Hijaya, breaking the silence.

"Thanks."

"Sometimes I think...that I never really knew him as well as you did. I never got to know about the things he did when he was part of that...group. I only got to see one side of him- the father. Sure, as the years went by he started drinking more and more, but he was always at his core good…" Hijaya's voice trailed off. "At least that's what I thought," she whispered, her gaze distant.

Aedan tapped her on the shoulder. Hijaya looked back up at him. "Do you think I'm a bad person?"

"No," said Hijaya, "Of course not."

Aedan looked out into the courtyard, over at the old tree where he and his brother would play Fereldens vs Orlais. He grimaced. "I've done much worse things than your father at this point."

Hijaya recalled the sight of Aedan slaughtering the men in the warehouse. She could still feel the terror in her veins as she had watched Aedan crush the man's throat beneath his bare grip.

"Your father fought for what he thought was right. He fought for a better world for you. At the end of the day, I hope that's all that matters. I think the best you can do is just remember him as who he was to you. He gave you his love." Aedan placed his hand on Hijaya's shoulder. A sad smile flashed across his face. "Remember him that way."

Hijaya sighed and nodded in agreement. "Wait here a second." Hijaya darted back inside, then returned with a wrapped bottle. "I never got around to giving this to you, but my father left this. I don't really drink the stuff."

Aedan took the bottle in his hands. He unwrapped the coarse paper about it. Golden brown liquid tumbled about inside. "Whiskey. He hated whiskey."

"I know."

Aedan's eyes widened as he realized who the bottle was for. "Oh."

"Guess he never got the chance to give it to you."

The two made small talk for a little while longer, catching up on how Hijaya's children and Jarat were doing. Soon the moon had risen far in the sky, and Hijaya had started yawning.

"It's getting late. I'm going to head back." Hijaya reached over and pinched Aedan's cheek. She chuckled once, before pulling Aedan in for a hug."Try not to lose your pants tonight, okay?"

Aedan groaned as he returned the hug in full form. "Never going to let that go, are you?"

* * *

No nightmare woke him tonight. Aedan stared at the wall for the second hour in a row. A faint wind fluttered through his broken window. If he closed his eyes and concentrated, the faint smell of trees lingered on the breeze- or perhaps he imagined it. His mind lingered on the image of Teharel's burial and the sapling that had grown over his body.

Aedan sat up in the bed, pulled a shirt over his head, and grabbed the bottle of whiskey Hijaya had given him. As he lifted himself off the bed, Morrigan rolled over half-asleep and saw Aedan moving to leave. "Where you going? Tis night." murmured Morrigan.

Aedan pulled his underpants back on, then his trousers. "I...have to go somewhere." He ruffled the top of Morrigan's head with his hand. "Just for a bit. I'll be back in an hour or so."

"Okay."

The door creaked as Aedan open it ever so slightly- enough so that he could fit through the crack, and still minimize the candlelight from the hallway. Midway through slipping through the door, he caught Morrigan glancing over at him. He paused in his path. "Do you want to come with me?" he asked.

Morrigan rubbed her eyes and sat up. "You sure?"

Aedan took a deep breath then nodded."There's no reason I have to do it alone."

* * *

He still remembered the steps he had taken, carrying Teharel's body with the others. Out the Alienage gate, down the alleyway with the barber, towards the eastern entrance. Though he remembered it so vividly, he had never walked this way since.

Aedan and Morrigan found themselves at the edge of the city, where the forest lingered outside the walls. The rustling of leaves in the forest filled the night air. The sun had set not long ago, and with it it's warmth. Even Aedan shivered a little- He had gotten used to sitting by a campfire. Aedan counted the steps from the gate to the left. One, two, three, four, five, six. He turned to his right and faced forward.

There it was: the tree under which Teharel was buried. Young, strong bark had taken root in the ground and was beginning it's long, slow climb towards the sky. The sapling was taller than Aedan now. It's leaves had a fresh green hue to it that if Aedan squinted he could see even in the night. Was it the remnants of the magic Zathrian had used to plant it? Or was it simply the life that was Teharel's shining through the leaves?

The plain truth of the matter was the same thing that happened to his family had happened to Teharel. No doubt for the first few months, the man had lay rotted beneath the dirt with bugs and maggots crawling through his body and eating at him- yet there was something better to it. Something more beautiful. The decomposing body became fuel for the tree. He had become food, yes, but he had lived on in a way. His body fertilized the soil, and in doing so the tree grew strong and healthy. Would Aedan too, live on in some way? Aedan pondered this as he gathered twigs from about the forest. He had already promised Avernus usage of his body after his death. Though it felt more an extension of Avernus's legacy rather than Aedan's, at least he would bring progress.

That's all Aedan could really hope for. That generations after him would prosper in the world he left them. He would push the next generation a little bit forward, just as the previous generation, his family and Teharel, had done to him.

Aedan broke from his thoughts to find he had already placed the twigs in the circle for a campfire. Instinct had guided his hands. He had laid the circle a good distance away from the tree Teharel laid buried under. Behind him Morrigan's fingers snapped, and a small fire alit in the center of the twigs. Aedan undid the cork on the bottle and took the first swig. Smoky, with a hint of vanilla and nuts. Aedan let the opening of the bottle linger beneath his nose for a few more seconds and let the smell fill his lungs. Teharel had picked well.

"Mind telling me why you're sitting in front of a tree drinking?" asked Morrigan. The witch took her place next to him. She smiled. They had not sat together in front of a fire like this for awhile.

"Whoops, forgot." Aedan gestured the bottle at the tree. "Teharel, Morrigan. Morrigan, Teharel."

Morrigan looked at the tree, then back at Aedan. She raised a single eyebrow. "You have a pet tree now, in addition to our pet rock." She smirked. "What next?"

"That's not-" Aedan rubbed his temples. "He's buried under-"

"I know- you don't need to tell me." The witch leaned forward towards Aedan's face, her chin in her hand. "Tis just jesting."

Aedan rolled his eyes. "Anyone else, and they would have gotten indignant."

Morrigan flicked her finger at Aedan's face, like a cat playing with it's prey. "Well, I consider myself lucky then that you are someone who enjoys my humor."

Aedan laughed heartily. "He probably would have liked the joke too."

"Hmm. I like him more than Alistair already."

"That's not saying much."

Morrigan crossed one leg over the other and peered at the tree as well. Young, no more than several years, by her estimate. "It was not long ago?"

"Several years ago. Haven't been by since the funeral. Seeing as how he left this bottle for me, I figure I might visit him. Share a drink." Aedan chugged a shot, wiped his mouth, then gasped for air.

"From the stories your elven friend told of him, he sounded..spirited."

"Well, Teharel was drunk a lot of the time. We both were. That's actually how we first met." He stared off into the far distance then sighed. "I was drunk. Blackout drunk. I woke up the next morning laying on the floor of some random Alienage apartment with some hungover old geezer crabbing at me. Apparently some people had been harassing his daughter and him on the way through town. Teharel could have taken care of them with a snap of his finger, but what then? It'd just give the jackasses reason to sic the guard on the Alienage. Luckily, drunk me stumbled over and fought with the people bothering them."

"Drunk, fighting, and trying to solve someone's problem. Yes, that does sound like you."

Aedan gave a little chuckle. "I guess so." A sudden gust of wind rushed against Aedan's face, blowing nearby leaves into it. "If I hadn't gotten piss drunk that day, I'd never had met Teharel. He'd never had trained me. Duncan probably wouldn't have come to recruit me. I'd be laying as a rotted corpse in Highever."

"The littlest thing," he murmured, "You just meet people one day...and then the next..." His fingers fiddle with the cork of the bottle. His voice cracked for a brief moment. Aedan caught himself mid sentence, looked back at Morrigan, and gave her a sad smile.

"Sorry," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I used to be a happy drunk. Nobody likes a downer."

"Tis okay," said Morrigan. She placed her hand over his. Aedan's expression brightened. He moved to take another sip, then sat up. He poured a little into the ground by the tree, then clinked the bottle up against it. "Miss drinking with you, buddy," he whispered. "Thanks for teaching me how to not to get killed." The man smiled, patted the tree on it's side, and took another big swig from the bottle.

"That's all I came to do," said Aedan. "We can go now if you want." The warden sat back down and closed the bottle.

Morrigan paused, then answered quietly. "We are here now. We have a nice fire going." She slide in closer to Aedan. "We can stay for a bit more."

At that, Aedan reopened the bottle and took another big swig. Aedan raised the bottle to eye-level to check it's contents. He'd made a sizeable dent in it, but much still remained. Aedan offered the bottle towards Morrigan. "Want some? Better than drinking alone."

The witch grimaced at the sight of the bottle. She leaned her head forward then did a sharp inhale from the top. She gagged and waved the smell away from her. "How...how do you drink that?"

"I dunno. Sort of used to it. Have you never drank before?"

"When I had reached a certain age, my mother would allow me to explore into the villages nearby to satiate my curiosity for the outside world. There were restrictions though- I was not to drink. Alcohol clouds judgement, makes you sloppy. As an apostate, twas not a luxury I could afford."

Morrigan took another whiff of the whiskey. Her body shook visibly from head to toe at the scent.

Aedan gave a small chuckle. "Oh yeah. Forgot how much it sucks the first time around. Think of it like medicine and down it quickly." Aedan demonstrated with a quick throw of his head backwards and a gulp of the whiskey down his throat. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

Morrigan sighed and slumped her shoulders."One of the reasons I left the swamp was to see the world...and alcohol is plenty in the world. I have never tried it. At the very least I can try it once before I write it off."

The witch stared down in the golden liquid swimming into the bottle before her. She grimaced, then clenched her eyes shut. She threw her head back and did a quick swallow, then cringed as the burning aftertaste filled her mouth.

"Here, I got water," said Aedan as he pulled out a spare waterskin from his side. He handed it off to the witch. Morrigan took a small sip, swished the water around in her mouth, and gagged at the lingering taste of the the whiskey.

"Very warm feeling in the chest." Morrigan pounded her fist against her chest multiple times, trying to ease the coughing. Morrigan braced herself before she took another swig of the whiskey. "I can't believe I'm saying this but this makes me miss my mother's swamp juice."

"Do I even want to know what that is?"

"There is a certain noxious herb that grows within sludge of the swamp, deadly unless boiled exactly right. That monstrosity is what she used to make the rest of the mixture taste better. The rest is the stuff of nightmares. 'Proper nutrition, child!'" mocked Morrigan. She likened her voice to Flemeth's and did a creaky cackle. "I did not raise you to become a fat and slovenly child like those outsiders! You're already looking chubby around the edges!"

"Geez. Flemeth sounds...rough."

"That is one way to put it. At the very least, she didn't try to burn me to death."

"Don't remind me." Aedan rubbed his shield-bearing hand and winced.

"T'was not all bad. In the same way that you are grateful to Teharel, I am grateful to my mother. She taught everything I knew- everything I needed to survive. We wouldn't have gotten this far without her. And-"

Morrigan glanced at Aedan. She smiled, wrapped her arm around his, and leaned her head him."Nothing."

"What? Say it."

"I don't need to say it."

"Say it," grinned Aedan knowingly.

The witch pinched his arm and frowned. "If you know what I was going to say, why make me say it?"

Aedan leaned in, brushed aside a stray bang, and kissed Morrigan on the forehead. "More fun that way."

Morrigan nuzzled her head against his shoulder. "Fool."

* * *

Aedan chuckled as Morrigan's heated, slightly flushed face leaned against his arm. "You're a lightweight, you know that?" he remarked.

"I weigh like...half of you...shut up," muttered Morrigan. The witch, sitting squarely in Aedan's lap, attempted to move her hand over Aedan's mouth. Her wandering hand slapped him in the neck first, then his eye, then his nose. "Stop being so heavy."

"You've told me to shut up five times already."

"And yet you keep talking and spinning around incessantly."

"I'm not spinning around."

"Yes...yes...you are." Morrigan's hand finally found Aedan's mouth. Her hand slapped against it multiple times. Aedan chuckled then tried to pry her lithe fingers away. In response Morrigan tugged on his lips and grumbled beneath her breath.

"You've got that stupid grin on your face," she slurred.

"I'm spinning, how can you see my smile?"

"I just know you've got that stupid grin on your face." She twiddled her fingers in the air. "It's  _magic_."

Morrigan, despite still remaining in Aedan's lap, felt around on the ground for something. "Bah. I'm done with you." She pick up a sole rock then placed it in her own lap. She petted the rock with her hand. "I'm replacing you with this guy here, since you already have a pet rock."

"I told you, if you keep calling Shale a 'pet rock' one day she might literally kill you."

"Ha! Her petty threats don't scare me-" Morrigan hiccuped and a small burst of flame billowed from her mouth. Despite the obvious dangers, the also drunk Aedan instead burst into laughter. He hugged Morrigan and rocked back and forth, while the witch giggled alongside him.

"No, the pet rock likes me better," slurred Aedan. He swatted aside Morrigan's hand to replace it with his own over the rock. Their hands competed to see who would have dominion over the work, both slapping and pinching the other get their opponent off of it. As he petted the rock with his hand and simultaneously fended off Morrigan's attacking hands with his other, Aedan cocked his head to the side and asked, "What's his name?"

Morrigan shrugged. This simple act threw off her balance, and the witch fell onto to her side, laughing as she did.

"Teharel! Give him a name!" shouted Aedan at the tree whilst he pulled Morrigan back up into his lap. The two turned in unison to the tree. The tree gave no response save for the rustling of its leaves. Aedan waved off the tree. "That's a terrible name. You're drunk, Teharel."

"What'd he say?"

"Reginald."

"Booo." Morrigan gave a resolute thumbs down. She starting slapping Aedan softly on the face again. "You think of one yet?"

"Why can't you think of one? It's your pet rock."

"What happened to  _our_  pet rock? Take some responsibility."

"Fine." Aedan racked his brain for names, but before he could get a single thought in, Morrigan tugged on his cheek again.

"Hurry up."

"Stop nagging me, woman."

"I'll stop when you hurry up."

Aedan snapped his fingers together repeatedly, a name on the tip of his tongue. "Kieran. Let's call him Kieran."

"Kieran." Morrigan leaned her head against Aedan's shoulder. Everything was spinning and she just needed to rest. Her head hazy and cheeks flushed from whiskey, Morrigan leaned back against Aedan's chest. "Kieran," she whispered to herself, letting the name roll of her tongue. A small smile flickered across her face.

"Tis not a terrible name."


	61. Comrade

"Not making the same mistake this time," repeated Alistair to himself. The templar made his way down the hallway, a sense of chilling dread creeping down his spine as he approached Aedan's room.

"Hurry up and get em, breakfast is almost done cooking!" shouted Oghren from the kitchen. Alistair half wondered if Oghren would create the most disgusting gruel in the world, or perhaps be some sort of savant at cooking.

Alistair paused in front of Aedan's door, then put his ear to it. Aside from the breeze that flowed through the halls, Alistair heard nothing. The templar sighed in relief. No moaning of Morrigan, no bed shaking, nothing. Out of consideration of Alistair (clearly Aedan's idea), in the two weeks since the incident at the Alienage, Aedan had redirected Alistair to a farther room. Subsequently, Alistair had not heard a peep of the other two during their nighttime activities, and had not had to deal with it in awhile.

Alistair's knuckles halted in front of the door. What if Aedan was sleeping? The man already had enough slumber problems, he didn't need Alistair to aggravate them. Alistair gulped. What if Morrigan was sleeping? Maker, the witch might burn him alive if he woke her.

Perhaps it might be better to simply just open the door. They were either sleeping or just lying in bed awake. Alistair inched open the door slowly, as to not make the door creak. "Aedan? You awake?" he whispered. Alistair poked his head through the crack in the door.

"MAKER, NO!"

* * *

A sole drop of water dripped from the pitcher Erlina had placed in the early morning. The elf returned into the kitchen with a bowl of cut lemons. She paused at the unusual scene: Aedan, Alistair, and Morrigan all sat around the dining table, hands on their heads and looking down at the table. She peered at each of the unmoving people once over, set down the lemons, and hurried off. Erlina shot the three a confused look as she departed.

The sound of something sizzling on the pan and Oghren's humming filled the silence. After an eternity of staring down at the table, Alistair poured a glass of water then pushed it towards Morrigan. The witch did not move for awhile. Finally, her hand reached for the water, but as her fingers closed around it, Alistair squeezed a lemon wedge in there. The witch's face twitched. Still not making eye contact, Morrigan clasped her hand around the glass and downed it.

Alistair glanced up and saw as Morrigan's throat moved up and down as she swallowed the water. The templar put his closed fist to his mouth and struggled to keep the vomit down. Aedan remained with his face buried in his hands.

Oghren waltzed into the room with an oil stained apron. "Alrighty! Pans all warmed up. Who's ready for some sausage!" announced Oghren. A sickened groan crawled out of Alistair's mouth. Alistair bolted up in his chair and marched out. Oghren set down the pan and rubbed his hands together. "More for me," he grinned. The dwarf took the pan, slid some onto Aedan's plate, some onto Morrigan's, and a substantially larger portion onto his. The dwarf opened the kitchen door and entered the garden outside. "Dog! Get over here. Got a little something for you," he shouted, closing the door behind him.

Aedan rubbed his face and eyes with right hand. As he leaned on his elbow, the hand slowly slid down his face, his forehead coming to rest on his palm. The warden took a deep breath, a bite of Oghren's sausage, and sighed. "This is not going to make my day any easier."

"You can just do what I do," said Morrigan, "Ignore the templar. It makes my day so much easier without him looking over my shoulder and grumbling about something I've done."

"Today...I was going to ask Alistair to become king and marry Anora."

The witch paused mid-bite. "You want to put him in charge of the country."

"Yes."

"The man too stupid to even knock."

"Yes."

"The man who one time accused me of stealing his horrific sock for 'witchy purposes', when it turns out it had just been stuck in his back pocket the entire time."

"...Yes." Aedan's fork scraped against the porcelain as he skewered the sausage. Just before he took a bite, Morrigan poked her nose near his mouth and took a whiff.

"Really? You think I'd have to be drunk to make that decision?"

"At the very least." The witch groaned at him. "I'm never touching that liquid again, after that dreadful...what did you call it?"

"A hangover."

"Ah yes, a morning after with headaches and puking? No thank you."

"You wouldn't enjoy pregnancy then."

Morrigan's fork clattered on the table. "What did you say?" she breathed, her eyes darting at Aedan. Her heart quickened.  _There's no way he knows about-_

"My sister-in-law, Oriana," muttered Aedan through a mouthful of sausage. The warden held up his finger, finished his chewing, then swallowed.

"Right, yes. Forgot about your sister-in-law." Morrigan stilled her breathing and concentrated her gaze back to her good. She held her hand over her heart to check her pulse had died down.

"Sometimes my brother had to take political trips, so I ended up taking care of her a lot. I still get queasy whenever I see a bucket and snickerdoodles. Maker, she really craved for snickerdoodles. One time I was late with them and then she pulled out a-"

As Aedan turned to her with a smile, his eye caught a little dab of sweat on the side of Morrigan's forehead. His eyes widened and his smiled faded. His heart skipped a beat. "You're not-"

"Of course not," said Morrigan in as calm a voice as ever.

The warden wiped his forehead with his arm and sighed in relief. "Good..that would have been-"

"Excuse me." In a fashion similar to the templar, Morrigan bolted up out of her seat. Instead of marching out, she walked out in a controlled, slow pace.

Aedan crooked his head out into the hallway to see where she was headed. A flash of light burst through the hallway, and the flap of wings greeted his ears. "Really doesn't like children, does she," mused Aedan.

With no one else around, Aedan quickly slipped out his flask and brought it's familiar opening to his mouth. A single drop rolled out onto his tongue. The warden frowned. Out of the corner of his eye, sunlight glinted off the remainder of Teharel's gift of whiskey, standing on a nearby countertop. His fingers drummed against the table. Aedan itched the palm of his hand and glanced at the bottle again. How long had it been since his last drink the previous night? His foot tapped incessantly as he counted on his fingers. Too long, he thought.

"Just enough to get through the day," muttered Aedan under his breath. He swiped the bottle, refilled his flask, then poured himself a glass.

* * *

The buzz of his morning glass already wearing off, Aedan made his way to the courtyard outside, where Alistair swung his sword about. His strikes rung against the wooden training dummy. Aedan took a set on the house steps and watched for awhile.

"Pivot your hips a bit more. You'll get some more force in that way," remarked Aedan from behind.

"Gah. I always forget that." Alistair tried striking the dummy again, and much louder sound rang out. He wiped off his forehead with a dirty rag, flung onto a nearby bush, and sat down next to Aedan. His fellow Warden offered him some bread, and the templar took it without question. Aedan uncorked his flask and took a couple of sips.

"It's not even lunch, Aedan. A little early, don't you think?" remarked Alistair.

Aedan shrugged and took one last sip before sealing the flask again.

The two sat there munching on their snacks without a word. Aedan struggled to think of words to ease Alistair into the possibility of royalty. Before Aedan could speak again, Alistair said, "I didn't really expect Morrigan would do that...sort of thing. She seems so finicky."

"How about we not talk about this particular topic?"

"She really swallowed her pride, am I right?" laughed Alistair whilst he elbowed Aedan in the side. As the templar turned to him expecting laughter, he instead saw a pale, wide eyed look on his friend's face. Alistair's words played back in the templar's head, then his eyes widened as well.

"Never let her hear you say that if you want either of us to live."

"We never speak of this pun again."

The two finished up their respective bread loaves. "What's she up to anyways? Lately you two have been inseparable. Rare to see you apart."

"For once, I actually don't know. I'm not going to pretend to understand half of what she does."

"Probably gathering herbs for some weird ritual or something." Alistair licked the crumbs off of his fingers and asked, "So, what's up?"

Aedan sighed and rubbed his temples. He needed to get this over with it. "Alistair, I'm going to say something. Now, I can either rip the bandage off quickly or do it long and painful."

"Hmmm...I dunno. Sometimes Wynne puts my bandages on too tight, and they end up squeezing into my flesh, so I want them out quick." Alistair tilted to the side and scratched his chin. "But then again, when the bandages are all stuck to your hairs, especially if there's also blood caked in-"

Whilst Alistair had been rambling, the tapping rate of Aedan's foot had only increased. "Fuck it, we're ripping it off." Aedan took a deep breath in. "I want you to marry Anora and become king," he breathed out, almost too rapidly to hear. The templar furrowed his brow, mouthing the quick sounds Aedan had just blurted out. His eyes lit with recognition and his face twitched. Alistair forced laughter out of his lungs. "Maker, I really needed that!" said Alistair, wiping away a tear. "After that whole debacle, oh you know me too well." He looked back at the silent Aedan. "Oh Maker, you're not joking."

The warden shook his head. "I'm not joking."

"Are you serious?" Alistair stared at him, hoping his friend's blank expression would betray something: a joking smile, a saddened quiver, a guilty twitch. Aedan simply stared back at his friend until Alistair, holding his head between his hands, shouted, "First off,  _marry Anora_? She's Loghain's daughter! Let that sink into your head for a moment. Secondly, me? King? Think about what you're saying. Really think about it. Me?" Alistair pointed to himself over and over again and nervously laughed, "KING?"

"I have thought about it. You'd be the best choice."

The templar threw his arms in the air and exclaimed, "Let Anora have the throne. She wants the damn thing!"

"She can't do it alone. The people may love her, but-"

"Uh, yes, she can! She did for five years after Maric died!"

"That was different. Half of Ferelden has been blighted. That isn't just casualties, Alistair. Farmlands have been lost. Roads and trade have been devastated. Our armies are depleted. After we kill the Archdemon, it's only the beginning. This country needs a strong leader they can look up to. "

"Strong leader? Me?" Alistair looked around in both directions. "Are you talking about me? Because it seems like you're forgetting I've never led before. Why, just why, would you ever think this was a good idea? Are you drunk again?"

"Listen to me," said Aedan, "You have the strongest claim to the throne-"

"No,  _you_ listen to me!" Alistair grabbed Aedan by the collar and shoved him up against the wall. Aedan's fist tensed, but Aedan ignored his instinct and didn't raise it. Instead he met Alistair's cold and glaring eyes. "I thought you were my friend! I thought you'd understand! I have hated my blood since the day I was born. I wasn't just ignored, no, it was worse, I was treated like I wasn't even supposed to fucking exist. Isolde made me sleep in the stables like an animal!" Alistair threw his arm out and pointed into the distance. "Eamon shipped me away like a pack of dirty laundry!"

Alistair quieted. His grip on Aedan's collar loosened. His other fist, clenched by his side, shook. He took in a slow, steady breath."And I know exactly why they sent me to the Tower of Ishal," he said, his voice quiet and trembling, but his words came out in a slow, awkward pace, as though if he let them out too quick the rage would overtake him."Instead of letting me fight by Duncan's side- they wanted to preserve me, like some sort of chess piece. I was the spare, the backup, the unwanted child." Alistair released his grip on Aedan's collar and took a step back. "I'm not Maric. I'm not Cailan. I'm not Anora. I'm not…" His eyes glanced away from Aedan. "I'm not you."

Aedan's heart twinged. In Highever, Alistair had told him that he had come to terms with Aedan taking leadership, that he was okay with. Yes, Alistair had comes to terms that he couldn't do what Aedan had done, but Alistair had never come to terms with what he himself could do. No one had ever let him shine. No one had ever treated his decisions as legitimate. They had only ever moved him about as a pawn.

Aedan waited until Alistair's breathing had slowed. The templar stared down into the dirt, and let his back slide against the wall. Aedan sat besides him against the wall. He opened his mouth to say something, paused, then remained silent a little while longer. He looked up at the clear blue sky and watched the birds flying free in the air. "You have a right to be angry. You do. You really do. I know your blood has given you a shit life before this, and I'm not asking you to let go of that anger right away. Nobody can just let go of things like anger in one day. I'm just asking you to, for one second, look past it.

"I know you're not Maric. I know you're not Cailan. I know you're not Anora. I know you're not me- but I'm going to tell you the same thing you told me in Highever." Aedan placed his hand on Alistair's shoulder. "That's okay. You're not a rebel prince liberating his country. You're not a pampered prince eager to jump into battle. You're not a shrew politician. And you're not...whatever the hell I am. You're your own man. If you don't want to be king, then that's your choice, and I'll drop it- but if there's even a small part of you that can look past your anger, look past your doubt, you'll see what I see- and it's not the legacy of Theirin blood, nor the legacy of the Wardens."

Aedan's voice softened and warmed. "I see the man who fought by my side and helped me get this far. I see the man who tried to ease my burden with jokes. I see the man who cared enough about my happiness to help bring Morrigan back to me. I see the man who helped bury my family when I couldn't." He grasped Alistair on the shoulder and gave him a shake. "That's the kind of man I want rebuilding Ferelden."

He peeked once at his cohort's furrowed brow and forlorn frown. Aedan stood back up, dusted off his pants, and made his way towards the door. "That's it," said Aedan, right before he stepped through, "I'll give you some time. Whatever you choose, I'll respect it."

* * *

After a rather large lunch, Aedan lazed about in the greeting room, drifting in and out of sleep. The warm sun hit him from the window in just the right way, and for a second he felt like a kid again. He rolled over on his side, burying his face into the ripped sofa. His mother used to always tell him never to play on the leather sofa, lest he make any rips or spills. It was one of their best, and the one they had political guests come sit on whenever they were in town. His upper body hung over the side of the sofa.

Had he pressured Alistair into the decision? Of course he had, saying otherwise would be a lie. The simple act of even bringing it up was pressure. Though he did truly believe that Alistair was the right pick, he knew how much Alistair hated the idea, and how much pain his royal blood had brought him. What kind of friend was he to bring up this decision?

As that thought entered his mind, Aedan undid his flask and took another sip. There was no use thinking about it. He had said what he wanted to say. No taking it back now.

He saw a familiar glint in one of the partially-opened drawers next to him- his old bag of marbles. Aedan strained to reach over without leaving the sofa. With the tip of his finger he latched onto the strap of the bag. He tugged a bit on the bag, but with one tug too forceful, the bag ripped on the side of the drawer. The marbles came tumbling out and rolled about the living room. Aedan scowled as he got up to pick up the marbles, which for some reason seemed to roll away from him just as he got near to pick them up.

Just as one marble threatened to be lost forever out the doorway, Alistair stepped in and stopped it in its path with a single foot. "Lost your marbles, finally?"

Aedan shook his head as he shuffled on his knees to gather up all the marbles. "Really going full force with those puns today, aren't you?"

"You're no pun."

Once Aedan had gathered up all the marbles back into a new bag, Aedan held the bag up to Alistair. "Want to play?"

The templar scratched his head. "Never played marbles before," he said, "Used to watch kids play it, but I was a templar then and I don't think they would have appreciated me playing."

"Usually I'd play outside...but screw it." Aedan lifted up the nearby rug, carved a light circle into the wood below, then placed several marbles inside. "So, put your knuckles to the ground, put a marble in your hand, then shoot with your thumb to try and knock one out of the circle. If it gets knocked out, you get to keep the marble. Whoever gets the most wins." After setting up the game, Aedan demonstrated with one marble by shooting it into the circle. He cursed beneath his breath as it missed its mark.

"Would have expected you to be training or something," remarked Alistair. He put his knuckles on the ground, squinted at a nearby marble, and shot one at it. The marbles bounced off one another out of the circle. The templar rubbed his hands together and collected both marbles.

"Landsmeet is tomorrow, I should rest. We'll probably have to fight someone or something, knowing us."

"Cloudy with a chance of demons, right? It is about that time of the week."

"Something like that."

"Really didn't expect you to own marbles. Thought you'd be more of a toy sword kind of guy."

"Seriously, what is with you people thinking I was born with a sword in hand?" Aedan tried once more to hit one inside the circle. He distinctly remembered being better at this- he kept putting too much force into it. Too much sword swinging had taught his muscles to do more rather than less. For once, however, his shot made its mark. Aedan flicked the marbles over to himself and began his own little pile. "My brother and I used to play all the time when we were young. Sometimes I'd even play with his son. Orlesian glass makers made these ones. Got them on my seventh birthday."

Alistair brought one up to his eye. "Oh yeah, this one's got a green swirly thing inside, with some sort of white sparkles- how'd they manage that?"

"When it comes to fancy things with no practical use, Orlesians have that covered."

Save for the clinks of marbles bouncing off each other, the two made no more noise. One by one the marbles clattered out of the circle until only one remained. Alistair with a substantially larger pile of marbles than Aedan, much to his chagrin. Alistair peered over the remaining marble,

"I'll do it," whispered Alistair. His grip around one of the marbles tightened and he took a deep exhale out.

Aedan turned to him. "You're sure?"

The templar sighed and leaned back one hand."Of course not...part of me wants to be on the road adventuring...but that life's not always what it's cracked up to be. Even then, I think even if I was on the road, knowing that I could have helped make a difference on the throne, I wouldn't be able to live like that." Alistair rolled marble between his fingers, staring deep into it's swirly depths. He let it roll into the palm of his hand. His fist closed around it. "I don't want to be that guy anymore, running from responsibility- and if you think I'll do a good job, then I'm trusting you."

"Don't worry, you'll do great, if your skill at marbles is any indication." Aedan couldn't help but frown at Alistair's larger pile. "You're sure you haven't played this?"

"Don't see the problem, you just shoot one marble at another." The future king shrugged. "Pretty straightforward."

"I keep overshooting-"

Aedan flicked his marble at the scarlet marble in the center. His shooting marble grazed the side of it and veered off to the side of the room, whilst the one in the circle rolled about near the edge of the circle. Aedan leaned in and watched the marble roll slower and slower to the edge, until it finally stopped right before it. The warden threw his arms up into the air.

Alistair took aim and shot his marble from the side right into the last marble, sending it flying to the other side of the room. Alistair pumped his fist in the air and grinned. "Another round?"

"Sure, buddy." Aedan scooped up the surrounding marbles with a small smile.


	62. Reflections

"Wake up, fool."

A cold hand pressed against his face, smushing him further into the bed. Aedan let out a low grumble and buried his face into the pillow. The hand tugged on his ear. Aedan swat it away. "It's not like I have anything important to do today."

The witch strapped on her last boot. Her fingers threaded a small piece of twine through her hair, forming her signature bun at the back. "Just deciding the fate of your country and the Blight."

"That's literally a Tuesday for us." Aedan squinted at the sun shining through the windows. "Ferelden can wait five minutes." He pulled the blanket back over his head. His fingers rubbed at the faint bags under his eyes. Much of the night had been spent laying in bed, thinking about the events to come.

A knock echoed against the door.

"I am waking you up," stated Alistair in loud, flat voice that reminded Aedan of a guardsmen. "Please be warned, I am entering the room." The templar coughed from behind the door to clear his throat. "Remove all...things...from...places."

"What sort of things are we talking about, hmm, Alistair?" smirked Morrigan, "And in what sort of places?"

"I know one place it ain't in."

Morrigan opened her mouth to say something. Her mouth twisted into a scowl, but she instead paused before chuckling to herself. "That may have perhaps been the first time in your life you were clever, Alistair. Perhaps there is a king in you yet."

"Oh joy. Morrigan's vote of confidence. Already off to a great start." The doorknob creaked and opened a crack. "This isn't going to turn out to be some sort of mean prank, is it?"

Morrigan plopped her head onto Aedan's shoulder. Her lips curl into a smirk against his neck. "The prank part does sound like you."

"The mean part does sound like you," retorted Aedan. Morrigan smiled against his skin and blew a cool gust of air down his neck. The man shivered in place.

Alistair cleared his throat from outside the room. "Aedan, someone's here to talk to us."

"Someone's always here to talk to us," sighed Aedan, finally sitting up in bed. "What do they want now?"

"His name is Riordan. He's a Grey Warden."

Aedan's drowsy eyes shot wide open. He stomped out bed and threw the door open. Alistair covered his eyes and flinched. "Oh thank the Maker you have underpants on this time," the templar breathed as he uncovered his face.

"You're sure he's the real deal? We've seen our fair share of pretenders, even had assassins pretend to be them."

"Duncan told me about this man by name before. Riordan. I think it's him."

"Any sort of proof? Documents, insignias, weapons, anything?"

"He'd been locked up in Howe's dungeon and made his escape during the whole commotion."

"So no proof."

"None...but I know he's one. You just know when someone's...one of us." Alistair grimaced. His fingers scratched at the back of his neck, right along a scar he had received several months ago. "He matches the description Duncan gave to me as well."

Aedan nodded. "I'll take your word for it then."

"To think, only at the end do they finally send help!" The future king chuckled and shook his head. "Just our luck."

A deep sigh escaped Aedan's lips. "Right. The end. Landsmeet's today. Then after that..." Aedan pinched his own leg and forced himself back on topic.

"Alistair, I assume you're sticking around for this?"

"Unfortunately, Eamon and Anora have other plans for me."

"Speech preparation?"

"Oh no, Anora has specifically forbade me from talking, which I'm all too happy to oblige with. They want me to go to the barber, then armor fitting. Apparently I need to look kingly. Besides, I think he wants to go over the army preparations and you're more the guy to talk to about that." Alistair gave Aedan a single wave before heading off towards the exit of the estate. No doubt Eamon had a full day planned for him in terms of preparations.

Morrigan finished putting on her last boot, then stood up and stretched her arms. "As thrilling as a conversation about troop movements seems, I need to gather more ingredients."

"For what? I always see you fly out of here in bird form. Gathering debris to build a nest or something?"

"Ah...no." Morrigan brushed aside a stray bang and glanced sideways. "As you said, the battle with the Archdemon may be coming sooner rather than later. I want to make sure I am prepared."

"Alright. Meet you at the Landsmeet chamber, then."

Aedan felt around for his pants, tossed aside somewhere onto the floor of the room. The flash of light from Morrigan's shapeshifting behind him bounced off the mirror and hit him in the face. By now Aedan no longer flinched when this occurred. He heard the flutter of wings grow distant behind him. After sometime searching to no avail, Aedan reached for his dresser for a fresh pair. He pulled out the first one he grabbed and took a sniff. It lacked the smell of sweat and blood. Perhaps Eamon had maids come by and launder their clothes in anticipation of the Landsmeet.

As he pulled on his pants, Aedan caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the dresser. He paused, his mind shifting to another place, another time. At some moment in the past, perhaps he stood on the exact same patch of carpet, his hands pulling up his pant's waist with his belt undone, his hair messy from a night in bed, and the sun's ray hitting him directly in the face. Yet there was a disconnect- the position, the action, they were all the same, and in that deja vu he had expected to see someone else as he turned to the mirror, but the only one who faced him was a stranger.

Aedan ran his fingers down a large scar down from his upper shoulder down under his opposite armpit, from the first few months of his journey. The straps of his armor, looted from the dead, had come undone and in that moment of panic he barely dodged the blade of an attacking darkspawn. Now of course it had Avernus's stitches running through it, making it more distinctive.

"I ought to shave." Aedan rubbed his hands over what was now almost a beard. He used to shave daily, but it had been a luxury on the road. He ought to look good- after all, today was the Landsmeet. The survival of the entire country fell upon whether Aedan could outmaneuver Loghain today. One bad opinion, and Ferelden would fall. One wrong word, and thousands could die.

Aedan gulped. His head pounded as he imagined the bloodshed. His sword arm twitched. As the pounding in his head intensified, he reached for flask atop the dresser and took a single sip. He closed his eyes and savoured that familiar burning sensation that lingered on his tongue. He finished off rest of the flask with several more gulps. He gasped for air and pocketed the flask into his pocket.

The warden made his way into kitchen, where a man unknown to Aedan sat. His black hair flowed down to his shoulder, unkempt and torn at the edges. A fresh scar lined his face down from his forehead, across his left eye, and down to his chin. Riordan greeted Aedan with a withdrawn smile, and a small bow of his head.

"Warden Aedan. I am Warden Riordan. I have heard much of your exploits. Indeed, I have benefited from one of your most recent endeavors- your...timely arrival provided a suitable distraction for me to escape from his dungeons."

"If it makes you feel better, I killed him," said Aedan.

"To be quite frank, it really does."

The two grimaced together. Aedan offered his hand out, and Riordan took it in his own. Aedan could feel the the deep set callouses on the other man's hand. He gestured towards the kitchen table. "Well, I assume that we need to talk about Grey Warden business. I'm afraid I haven't had a formal orientation yet, besides the whole Joining."

Riordan gave a quiet laugh with a big grin. "I would dare say you are already a full-fledged warden, considering what you have already done to prepare for the upcoming fight with the Archdemon."

"I have some reports, if you'd like to discuss them."

"Yes, we have much time before the Landsmeet later today. I'd like to hear of your progress."

For the next half-hour Aedan and Riordan thumbed through the various reports that Aedan had collected about the armies. They had all begun marching towards Redcliffe, per his commands. The march itself took time, as they no longer had the option of routing through the Blight-infested south. To be honest, Aedan had no idea where the darkspawn would strike next. If one to assume they were a simple, mindless hive-mind, he'd expect them to slowly push their borders of corruption little by little towards the North.

"-but tis a good idea overall. Once the Archdemon is spotted, we will need a fully coordinated strike on it and it's army using all our forces. We simply do not have the manpower to stretch out a war with the darkspawn and still have this country survive," spoke Riordan as he mulled over the map on the table. The man traced his fingers between the marked x's on the worn parchment and muttered to himself.

"Another thing. I noticed that it is only you and Alistair left of the official Grey Wardens, and yet none have taken the Joining yet." He pushed aside the maps into a neat pile and stared back up at Aedan. "I assume that you do not know how to perform the Joining, nor do you have the resources."

Aedan shrugged. "Even if I had Archdemon blood and lyrium laying around, the most I could do would be to bungle the formula."

Riordan gave another small laugh. Turning his attention towards his own arm, Riordan picked at the skin on his left shoulder. A small, pinkish patch came off in his hands, revealing beneath it a pasty, untanned square of skin, with a brown square center.. The flesh beneath it had caved in over time, and stitched inside was a leather flask of sorts. As Aedan focused his vision on it, something whispered in his ears. A familiar voice that haunted his dream. A dragon's roar echoed through his head, but a sweet song slithered within the gaps, calling to him-

Aedan shook himself repeatedly. The siren call that had overtaken his mind now faded. Riordan held the vial in front of Aedan. He squinted his eyes and peered at the current level within. "If need be, we have about enough for one recruit. Generally, Warden-Commanders always carry enough for at least three of the vials, maybe more. Senior Wardens like myself carry at least one."

"It's not painful?"

"They make the cavity over time, digging out bits of flesh with a knife. To men like us, a little bit of knife work is nothing. I see they've stitched yours together quite nicely."

Riordan pointed at one stitched scar on Aedan's collarbone that poked out of his shirt. Aedan tugged a little on the shirt to cover it up.

"Seems rather pointless, to recruit so close to the end. By the time the taint kicks in, the Archdemon will be dead."

"The end? Is that what you think this is?"

"It's what I hope. I stick the blade-" Aedan motioned with his knife, and pointed it down into the table. "-into that damn thing's head. Then the Fifth Blight becomes a bad memory for the people of Ferelden."

"Do you think it's that simple?"

"Do you think it's that complicated?"

Aedan watched Riordan's eyes narrow, and the side of his mouth twitched. Riordan leaned forward further into the table. The older warden peered at Aedan, watching his reaction with an intense silence. Finally, Riordan asked in a gravelly whisper, "Do you know what happens when the Archdemon die?"

Aedan remained stone-faced and though he looked straight in the direction of Riordan, his eyes stared far past him. He leaned back in his chair and gazed at the beautiful day outside. The sun trickled through the window and dust lingered in its rays. Aedan breathed, "I know. Avernus's told me."

"And you have planned to take that blow, despite of that."

"I have."

"Have you told Alistair?"

"No. I haven't told him."

"Haven't, or never intended to?"

"Does it really matter now," said Aedan whilst gazing at the dust, "this close to the end?"

"It should," said Riordan, "because if you perish before dealing that blow- he'd have to take it. Self-sacrifice is a noble duty, but don't forget what we are up against. It will take every Warden we have to kill this thing."

Aedan bit down on his tongue and held back a frown. "Right. You're right," he replied automatically, just to give Riordan the answer he wanted.

"Thank you." Riordan sat up and offered his hand out to Aedan once again. The two shook once more. The senior warden gave Aedan a single nod. "I do not know if this will ease your worries, but at the very least, there is one more person here who can take that blow, and if we can, I will try to recruit at least one more. You may very well live to see beyond the end of this Blight."

With that, Riordan moved towards the door. "I shall meet you at the Landsmeet," he said, giving a small bow in farewell, "I look forward to fighting by your side, Warden Aedan."

"Likewise, Riordan."

The door closed without a single creak or thud. Aedan peeked out the window, and Riordan was nowhere to be found. Left alone, Aedan eased himself back into the wooden chair by the kitchen table. His elbow leaned on the table with his forehead cradled in his palms. He rubbed his temples with thumbs. His head pounded. The table rattled. Aedan stilled his shaking leg. Then man poured himself a glass of whiskey. It cracked beneath his grip.

_I don't have to die._

Golden brown liquid filled his replacement glass. He brought the glass to his mouth. For a second the brief scent he loved so much wafted beneath his nose. If he simply let the glass linger, then he could simply bask in that scotch scent. Instead Aedan knocked the glass back into his throat, and filled it up again.

_I should still be the one to take it though, logically- Alistair is king, and Riordan is a Senior Warden who could do far more good than me._

"Right?" he muttered, taking another long sip. Only silence answered. "Right?" he said a little quieter.

Aedan leaned his face into his hand. His clammy palms chilled his face. He poured himself another glass.

There was peace in certainty of his death. He had come to accept it. He had moved towards that goal with a singular focus, like a moth to the flame. Everything he had done, everything that he was, had been building to that one singular moment where he would plunge his sword into the Archdemon.

He wouldn't have to worry about sleepless nights. He wouldn't have to worry about more terrible decisions. He wouldn't have to worry about the life of a Warden, and their eventual Calling. He wouldn't have to worry about losing his loved ones. He would simply end, and be at peace.

Except now, he might not.

Aedan shut his eyes. If he listened hard enough, he could still hear them- Nan cooking dinner in the kitchen, his mother fussing over Oren, Fergus and and his father laughing whilst Oriana groaned at the two. For a moment, he was back there, and his heart slowed to gentle lull. Wasn't that was where peace was? Where there was no fighting, no decisions to be made, no horrors to face?

That was where he should be, right? And if he opened his eyes, if he reached out far enough, he just-

He opened his eyes again, only to see a empty, rundown kitchen with broken cabinets and a crooked table. He peered at his scarred hands, and his forehead throbbed as he continued to stare at them, until he turned his palms away from him and chose to wrap his hand back round his glass.

_Are you so selfish you'd leave Morrigan alone, without a single word?_

The words slithered and snaked its way down his ear. His stomach churned. Aedan lifted the glass up to his mouth again. The last drop glided down the interior of the glass and splashed down against his tongue.

_I need to go to the Landsmeet, I shouldn't-_

His shaking hand hovered over the remaining bottle.

_And what of Alistair? You force him to take responsibility as a king, and then you just run off into death._

The glass of the bottle cooled the tiny cuts that had accumulated on his hand. Aedan lifted the bottle up and watched as the dark waterfall spilled forth into his glass. The liquid rocked from side to side.

_I just want…_

_I need..._

Aedan brought the glass to his lips once again. "I need another drink."

* * *

Another drink became another drink became another drink. Not long after, the drunken warden bumped up against the wall and groaned. Aedan stumbled down into the dungeon of the Cousland estate- for sure nobody would be down here. The man swatted aside cobwebs as he made his way to the last cell in block. He stopped to steady himself against the wall. The world spun around and around, the cracks in the stone blurring past him like dancing cuts in the air. His head hazy from the booze, Aedan took a left into the last cell in the hallway.

Just as he turned to face within, the back of a jacket flashed in the corner of his eye. Though inebriated, instinct took over as Aedan shot his hand out and grabbed his assailant by the wrist. He twisted the arm back behind the man and pinned him against the dungeon wall. Only one eye peeked back from the face of the grizzled veteran, with the other being covered by a ragged eyepatch.

Once again in the dungeons of the Cousland estate, Aedan found himself in a surprise meeting with Adair. "You got faster," chuckled Adair.

Aedan paused for a moment to get his bearings. He scraped his fingernail up against his temple to see if he was dreaming. The prick of his nail against his skin suggested otherwise. "You got slower," replied Aedan.

"It's called getting older. Can't all be spring chickens like you." The man shoved Aedan's grip from his arm and lowered himself down onto a nearby stool. Adair rubbed his right shoulder and shifted his neck about, letting out a small groan as he did. More grey hair lined his head than the last time Aedan saw him.

"Where the hell have you been? And where's the lambskin package?"

"I've actually been living out of your estate for months now. Was actually staying in the master bedroom until you and your friends showed up. Now I'm just sleeping on a cot in the dungeons."

Aedan steadied himself against the wall. His vision blurred and he lost focus on Adair. He clenched his eyes. "If you've been here for the past few weeks, why didn't you just come and give me the package before? Peace of mind and all that?"

"Thought you were dead before all this business, then all of a sudden you show up causing trouble in Denerim. After that, I still figured you could die beforehand. You know, darkspawn and shit."

"...Thanks."

Adair reached down under a nearby cot and tossed a lambskin package into Aedan's hands. The lambskin covering had dried and felt coarse to the touch. The young man shook it to hear the parchment inside of it.

"You'll probably find the damn thing useful for the Landsmeet-"

"Thanks," said Aedan as he turned away without even a second glance at Adair. Question still lingered at the back of his mind, but the haze that filled Aedan's head compelled him towards a quieter place.

"Not even going to ask where I've been all these years?"

"N-nope." Aedan teetered towards the exit of the dungeon. He hiccuped once. Perhaps nobody would be in the stables. He stumbled once and leaned up against the wall. His eyes scrunched up whilst he regained his bearings.

Adair cocked his head at Aedan and growled, "Are you drunk?"

"A little," said Aedan as he forced a laugh out of his lungs, "Want some?" Aedan's smile faded whilst his flask remained at his own side.

Adair crossed his arms. "It's morning, kid."

"Gotta take the edge off somehow." Adair eyed Aedan's flask as the man took several gulps. Aedan wiped his mouth and gasped for air. "That's the stuff," muttered Aedan to himself.

"You really shouldn't be drinking before something as important as the Landsmeet.."

"I'll sober up beforehand- besides, like I'm going to take lessons in morals from you."

"Not a moral issue, more a efficiency issue."

"How about I do what works for me, and you do what works for you? Sounds good. Good-"

Aedan felt the flask being wrenched from his hands right before his next sip, followed the sound of liquid dripping to the ground. He watched as Adair held the flask downwards and the last remnants of the flask drizzled out onto the floor. His eyes lingered on the last solitary drop. Aedan's hand curled into a fist. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm not letting the future of the country that I killed for be decided by some drunk kid." Adair grabbed the package back from Aedan. The simple act of snatching the package left Aedan off balance, and the young man stumbled back two step. Adair scowled. "Sober up."

"I'm...fine."

Adair narrowed his eyes and took a long sigh. "You know, I've been watching you the past few days. Every morning, you empty out that flask into your mouth. Then you fill it back up, then empty it again, and so on and so forth. Everybody just accepts you drinking constantly from that flask, but when they're not watching you'll sneak a glass or two in. "

"First off- creepy, second off, I've got it-" Aedan paused, held up his finger, and cradled the side of his head. "-under control."

"I knew someone who started out at one drink a day. Then two. Then four, and then it spiraled."

It took the inebriated Aedan several moments to process who Adair was talking about. Once the thought clicked in his head, Aedan's eye twitched. "You...you  _knew_ him?" His fists clenched till his knuckles went white. Aedan tried his best to clamp his mouth shut, to hold back the festering anger that boiled his insides. "You  _knew_ him because you killed him," seethed Aedan with heated breath. "We'd  _know_ him if it wasn't for you...you...you piece of shit." The world tilted left and right again, and Aedan drunkenly stumbled backwards.

The anger on Adair's face faced. He glanced at the ground. "I didn't think that poison would kill him. Just...incapacitate him for a bit."

"Fucking bullshit! You crush a guy's leg and poison him, and you think just because you didn't intend to kill him, you get off guilt-free?" Aedan waved his arms in the

"Kid, calm down and sober up."

Aedan jerked his head from side to side, ranting beneath his breath. He stared back up at Adair and pointed. "No,  _you_  don't get to lecture  _me_  about self-control, not ever! Not after what you did!"

Aedan flung his arm in the direction of the flask, but Adair whacked away his hand. The act put the drunken Aedan off balance yet again- the man teetered monetarily before smashing into the wall head-first.

"You done?" sneered Adair.

"You really-" Aedan took a long breath out, then gritted his teeth. With a sneer he took a step closer in. "-really don't want to do this."

The grizzled veteran scoffed and cocked his fist back. "I'd like to see you try."

Adair's fist jabbed into in Aedan's chest. Aedan's limbs shook and his lungs emptied of air, but instead of collapsing to the ground he looked Adair straight in the eye with a quiet fury. How many times had Teharel hit him like that? Too many to count. Now, after an endless barrage of wounds that had befell him, a punch like that felt like nothing at all. Aedan's hand instinctively shot out and wrapped itself around Adair's neck. His eyes heavy from lack of sleep, his body sore from his scars, his mind hazy from the alcohol, and his soul bitter from so much death, all came together to tip Aedan past his breaking point. The faint smell of blood filled the air, and the veins on Aedan's hand darkened.

"Give me the flask." Still, even as Adair pounded one fist against Aedan's chest, the old man's other hand held the flask steadfast. Aedan could pry the bottle from the man's grip- he could tear off fingers and crush bones, one man's grip meant nothing- but Aedan tightened his own instead. No, he'd make Adair drop it, like a wounded animal in defeat.

Adair clawed at the vice about his neck as Aedan lifted him up the ground. Aedan clenched his jaw till the vein in his throat visibly throbbed.

"Kid-"

"I need it, so just hand the damn thing over-" he seethed. He saw Adair's mouth move, but the sound of his own pounding heart roaring in his ears chest drowned it all out.

_He's a worthless old man who killed your friend._

"Kid, you're-"

_Kill him._

A piece of spit flew against Aedan's face as Adair sputtered beneath his death grip.

That image of Howe flashed before his mind, sputtering and blue faced as he had choked the life out of him. As Adair's fingers clawed at Aedan's grip, he remained the futile fumbling of Caladrius against his metal gauntlet. The faces flashed, spinning together into dazy blur.

Yet for an instant, his eyes briefly focused on what was in front of him. His vision steadied. In that single moment, Aedan saw his hands choking the life out of Adair. The smell of alcohol on his own breath wafted up into his nose, and for once his body shivered in disgust at the scent. Aedan's eyes widened, his stomach churned, and he released his grip. Adair collapse onto the ground, wheezing and clutching at his throat. He massaged the dark red marks left by Aedan's grip.

Aedan backed away from Adair with quivering hands. He looked back at his hands then at Adair's neck and back again. His stomach churned one final time before Aedan leaned against the opposite wall and vomited into the corner. Adair gagged on the noxious smell of Aedan's breakfast and several glasses of whiskey. Aedan remained crouched over his own vomit, panting. Adair rubbed his sore neck once more. He coughed, "You want some water?"

Aedan nodded once before lurching forward once more.

* * *

Adair handed Aedan a bucket of water from the well. The warden held his stomach and forced himself to down much of the water. His head had cleared a bit, but still Aedan felt the haze of alcohol in his body. He slapped his cheeks with the water and washed at his face.

"You gonna be good before the Landsmeet?" asked Adair. The veteran rubbed at his neck, where a slight red finger marks still remained.

"I'll be good...the vomiting helped. So will the water...thanks." Aedan dragged himself up and propped himself against the wall.

Adair sat down next to Aedan against the wall. After a bout of dry heaving, Aedan looked up from his bucket and whispered, "How did you live afterwards?"

Adair's brow furrowed as he turned to look at Aedan.

"I might live to see the beyond the end of this," continued Aedan, leaning his forehead against the side of the bucket, "and I know I can't go back to the same life I had before, but does it get easier once you're done?"

Adair leaned his head back and laughed. "I thought the same thing. I thought doing all the things I did afterwards for Maric's bastard...I thought it'd absolve me." He took a long, pained breath. His closed his remaining eye and rubbed his eyepatch. His old bones creaked in place. "I thought I'd feel some moment where the weight lifted off my shoulders. Where the guilt in my mind would fade away like a bad dream." He smiled, and not a toothy, mocking grin, nor one accompanied by a sneer or growl. Only one edge of his mouth lifted in a sad, lopsided manner. His voice grew hoarse, and the tone trembled. "That the next day I'd wake up, and wonder what all the fuss had even been about."

Adair hunched over, looked at the ground, and gave a single lifeless laugh. "The next day I woke up. My bloody eye was still missing, I still had bone fractures, and food still tasted terrible. The people I killed still lingered in my mind, like ghosts, dogging my every step. I eat because I'm hungry, not because I want to. I sleep because I'm tired. I have no loved ones. No friends, no family, nobody who knows my face. The only person who knows I still exist just tried to choke me to death. Hell, maybe it'd been better if you succeeded. If I died in a ditch, the next day the world wouldn't skip a beat. Men like us...men like us fade away after we've served our purpose. We can't change who we've become."

Adair patted Aedan once on the shoulder. He placed the lambskin package next to Aedan as he stood up. "Bye, kid."

Aedan watched the clear water of the bucket. His reflection twisted and rippled on the surface. A thin trail of vomit ran from his chin down to his neck.

_Maybe he's right. This is what I've become. This is what I'll die as._

Right as Adair walked through the cell doors, Aedan said, "So that's it." His voice cracked. "We're just...broken."

The cell door creaked as Adair halted in the doorway and leaned his hand against it. His back still faced Aedan. His hand gripped the cell bar. He glanced back with his one good eye. "Yup."

The door slammed shut behind Adair. Aedan hung his head down, cradling his throbbing forehead in his hands.

* * *

Dried vomit still ran down his chin. The warden wiped it away with his forearm. He leaned up against the dresser in his room. The bottle of Teharel's whiskey rattled atop it. The golden liquid swirled inside.

_Just one sip. Just enough to take the edge off._

Aedan wrung his hair in his hands and stared down at the dresser top. His mouth had gone dry, but his hands had gone sweaty. He gulped. His eyes wandered to the bottle again.

_It'll be easy. Just one more. Just a little._

Aedan took the bucket of water off the floor and placed it on the dresser top. Little droplets splashed against his face. He scooped the cold water out of the nearby bucket onto his face. Still facing downwards, the droplets dribbled off down into the towel spread below. He rubbed his unkempt stubble yet again. His jar of old shaving cream audibly popped as he pried the lid off. He scooped out a sizeable portion with the tips of his fingers and rubbed it about his palms. The smell of mint and earthy elfroot wafted upwards. The man spread the cream over his face. He unrolled his old razor blade out of its fabric, and placed it against his cheek.

The edge grazed his face like a dagger. Aedan hesitated and gazed down at the bottle of Teharel's whiskey.

His hand hovered over it, trembling.


	63. Enemy

Loghain rubbed at the bags under his eyes as he sat up in bed. He itched at a scar above his waist, then at another. The new sheets that the maids had brought had pilled up and irritated his old wounds. Yes, he had requested Ferelden sheets over Orlesian. No doubt the Orlesian ones were softer, but if Loghain wanted to actually sleep, he would not wrapped in the goods of his enemies.

He brushed his hands over the sheets. His people excelled at making thick, rough coats and hardy boots, not the goods like the fine sheets of Orlais. Yet another reason that the new trade deals previously brokered by the Couslands could only do harm. The people of Ferelden had grown weak on soft sheets and candied foods.

These sheets would take awhile to become softer. Several more washes and many nights sleep would do the trick. Loghain would admit they would never become quite as soft as Orlesian silk, but the fabric of Ferelden was ultimately warmer and tougher, far more suited to the cold nights that often swept the region. He used to be able to sleep on similar sheets as a child, back on the farm. His mother would tuck him in tight during the chilly winter nights, and he'd scrunch them close to his body. Perhaps it was simply a child's temperament that allowed him to tolerate it, or that his many scars and fractures no longer agreed with rougher sheets, or both.

The door rattled with a knock. "Enter," grunted Loghain.

"Your regency." The servant bowed, then beckoned to the clean shirt and pants left on the dresser closest to the door. Through trial and error the servants had learnt that Loghain did not need, nor desire, any additional help in the morning. A simple stern look and a growl had set the stewards straight. Loghain nodded the portly man off, and the door closed without protest from the man.

Loghain buttoned up his shirt and took a look in the mirror. He rubbed at the stubble about his face. He needed to shave. He'd been so busy hunting the Warden and dealing with the nobles that he'd had not a moment of spare time to even take care of such things as this.

Yet another knock on the door. Loghain rolled his eyes."Enter."

The same attendant poked his head in through the door. "The barber has arrived, ser,"

"Send him in."

"The armorer has also arrived to do maintenance on your-"

"No." Loghain glared at the attendant and snarled, "Nobody touches my arms but me."

The attendant hesitated, but smiled back at Loghain and nodded. "As- as you wish."

* * *

Loghain rubbed his hands over his clean-shaven face, and grunted in approval. Though the barber's skill lay with a different sort of blade, Loghain could respect a man who had spent his life perfecting his craft.

He entered his office, armor rag in hand, but found a familiar face waiting for him. Cauthrien stood at attention the instant Loghain walked in. "Your regency," saluted Cauthrien. The knight knelt down on one knee before him. Loghain set aside his rag upon his desk, then beckoned Cauthrien to stand with an upward gesture of his fingers

Just as Loghain opened his mouth, another servant piped from behind, "Are you sure you do not wish for the armorer to take a look-"

"Leave. Now," growled Loghain. The servant lurched backwards and took a stiff breath in. From behind him Loghain heard the man scurry off. The regent rubbed his forehead and sighed, before turning his gaze back to Cauthrien. "There's no need for formalities between us. Stand. It is good to see your face, Cauthrien. I've dealt enough with these charlatans. "

The knight obliged and gave her commander a small smile. "They are only trying to help, please forgive them."

"I...do understand. But all this pageantry...this showmanship...it all seems so Orlesian in the way they dance about the real issues and choose to fight with candied words."

"Do not worry about, my lord. After today, we shan't need to deal with them. Or…"

Cauthrien paused, and her eyes flickered away from Loghain. "Him."

Loghain peered closer at Cauthrien. The knight gulped. "Speak plainly, Cauthrien," stated Loghain.

"Must we kill the Warden?"

"Mercy, Cauthrien?" Loghain crossed his arms and leaned back. "This is unexpected of you."

"My regency- no, Loghain. I was there by your side that day in Ostagar. Though your decision still gives me pause, I would still stand behind you for it."

"Thank you."

"But Aedan Cousland...he is an innocent in all this."

"Can the word 'innocent' really apply to that man? A man who crushed Howe's hands simply for the satisfaction, then gutted him in his own home. Tell me, what kind of man can crush another man's bones with his bare grip?" Loghain shook his head. The sight of Howe's mangled body still brought pause to him.

"What will be done with him after the Blight is a discussion for another time, yes, but he is the one who has brought an army together to fight this Blight, while we have not. Is there no merit in that?"

"He has not had to deal with squabbling nobles, fat on peace, or the looming threat of the Orlesian at our doorstep. It's very easy to play the hero...gallivanting around saving people...and what of his army? Dwarves? Mages? Elves? Eamon's men? How many of them are truly willing to lay down their lives for this country? They all want something- the elves their land, the dwarves their trade deals, and the mages just want more political leverage to negotiate more freedoms."

Loghain paced over to the window and gazed outwards, whilst his mind wandered towards his days spent in fierce war. He closed his eyes, and he could still hear the ring of steel swords reverberating in his ears. "An army is not truly an army if not united in cause. Otherwise they are no better than mercenaries. That is all he is, as well. A man with no loyalties. He claims to have allegiance to an order which he was never truly a part of. His family courted the Orlesians, and now he courts outside groups whose agenda is unclear. When it comes down to it, I cannot trust him. I would rather kill him then to fight alongside a man I did not trust." Loghain turned back around to Cauthrien. "People whom I can trust are in short supply. Can I count on you today, Cauthrien?"

The knight once again stood at attention. "Yes, ser." Cauthrien placed his closed fist over her heart. "I would die for you."

Loghain's chest welled at Cauthrien words. So many nowadays questioned his choices; the fact someone stood by his side was a rare one these days. How could these nobles not see that he was trying to help them? Yes, taxation was higher these days. Yes, he was demanding troops from them- but this was a Blight, not a simple economic downturn. It was a matter of life and death, yet most of these nobles had grown complacent on peace. They sat in their comfy castles eating fine goods while the common soldier died for to preserve peace.

"Then I shall see you in the Landsmeet chamber-"

"No."

"No?"

"I will wait outside to stop that man from even entering."

"You are...too kind a comrade, Cauthrien. Thank you. Truly." Loghain placed his hand on her shoulder and smiled. "You were there by my side at Ostagar. Let us end what started that day."

Cauthrien gave her commander a final salute. "Let us end this."

Loghain stepped back towards the window and looked upon his country, his home, his burden. Today was the day Loghain would save his country once more. They would be strong- no...they would become what they always had been, shrugging off the weights of the past. Only one obstacle stood in his way, and Loghain would deal with it in any way possible.

The stained glass above shone jagged beams of scarlet red and purple upon him. Loghain squinted, then moved his hand in it's path. A shadow cast over his face.

* * *

Clad in full armor, Loghain leaned upon the hilt of his sword in the center of the Landsmeet chamber. The nobles rabbled amongst themselves, almost blocking out even Loghain's thoughts with their incessant noise. Loghain watched as Eamon eyed the door again. His eyes paused there, then turned back to Loghain with a glare. Loghain returned the cold gesture in kind, and the two men held eye contact for the briefest of moments. Loghain scoffed and returned to staring straight forward at the door.

What a fool. Putting all his hopes on Aedan Cousland of all people. Why had Eamon become so blind? Had the man not fought alongside him against the Orlesians and seen his prowess as a general? The answer, though, Loghain knew. The thought of Eamon's Orlesian wife sickened him to the core. That wicked Orlesian had twisted his friend into someone he could barely recognize.

The door to the Landsmeet chamber burst open. In strode that bastard, Aedan Cousland. Loghain remembered meeting him at Ostagar. The boy had looked at him with...admiration. Hope. He had just lost his family, and yet he could still make that kind of face at Loghain. How many people nowadays looked at him like Aedan did then? Loghain could count them on one hand.

Had he killed Cauthrien in his mad pursuit of power? Loghain's gaze concentrated behind the man looking for any clue as to her fate. Perhaps the young man had taken mercy, merely tied her up. Knowing the things Aedan had done, it seemed far more likely Cauthrien's corpse bled out in the lobby of the Landsmeet chamber. Then he caught a glimpse of Cauthrien's black ponytail and her back as it strode into the light outside. The knight looked once backwards and her eyes met with Loghain. She shook her head and clenched her eyes shut. Her sword, undrawn, was the last thing Loghain saw of her before the doors shut behind her.

Loghain gripped his sword harder. Even Cauthrien had abandoned him. His eye twitched as he stared daggers at the approaching Aedan Cousland. Behind him was a hodge-podge of odd characters- former assassins, a Circle mage, even a golem. In addition was that supposed prince, Alistair, who no doubt was a mere puppet for the Orlesians as well. How could he not? The man had been in the Wardens longer than Aedan, so no doubt he had already been indoctrinated into their women in particular, the black hair mage, frowned as the noise reached a deafening level. Catching her expression, Aedan brushed the black-haired woman's arm and whispered something into her ear. The woman scowled and hit him gently in the side. Aedan gave a slight smile, and turned to face forward again.

Why did these people follow him? Both him and Aedan promised the same thing: victory in war, and yet these people flocked to him.

Loghain knew his each and everyone of his soldiers names by memory. He knew exactly what he was sacrificing each time he sent one of them to their deaths. Yet in recent days people only choose to leave, not stand with him. What was it? What combinations of words had he said that seduced these people into following his whims, to coerce his greatest lieutenant to abandon him, to convince an old friend to turn against him?

"My lords and ladies of the Landsmeet. Teyrn Loghain would have us give up our freedoms, our traditions, out of fear," began Eamon.

Loghain scoffed. "We all know you wish to put a puppet on the throne- the real question is who will be pulling the strings." Loghain picked his sword up and sheathed it by his side. He took a step forward with his finger pointing straight at Aedan. "And here walks the puppet-master. Tell me, Warden, how much did the Orlesians promise you to sell out your own country?"

That's right, how could this boy be anything but a spy for the Orlesians? He had seen how Duncan had played along with Cailan's plans of grandeur and led to the man being killed. He knew of how the Couslands had become chummy with the Orlesians. How could he have accomplished so much, if not for the backing of those monsters?

The young man spoke, his eyes first meeting Loghain's, but then proceeding to scan across the entire room. "Orlais is not the threat here, Loghain, the Blight is. Most of southern Ferelden has already fallen to it, and soon the north." Each time his gaze met another noble, it lingered for the briefest of moments, before it moved onwards.

Loghain noticed Aedan's gaze land on Arl Wulff and pause for a moment longer than the rest. Arl Wulff leaned over the side of the landsmeet railing. His weathered eyes bore straight into Loghain. "Yes, Loghain, my lands are all but lost. Whilst your civil war has raged, what good has that done to save us from the Blight?" His hands gripped the railing and shook.

"This is exactly what the Orlesians want," replied Loghain, "for us to give into fear, let this man take power, and put a puppet on the throne. We must not let him enact his machinations."

Aedan scoffed at the accusations. "Funny, that you should speak of machinations and puppets. Tell me, Loghain, of why you stole an apostate from the grasp of the templars, imprisoned one of their own in Howe's dungeon, and then used that apostate to poison Arl Eamon."

Loghain gave a bitter laugh that echoed through the chambers. "A baseless accusation that I won't even humor, Warden."

"My brother, whom the Warden found imprisoned in Howe's dungeons, tells a very different story, Loghan." Bann Alfstanna stepped forward to the front of the upper levels. "He claims that you ambushed his transport and took the apostate, Jowan, into your own custody. The apostate himself has confessed to poisoning Eamon under your orders, which directly resulted in the horrific events that plagued the town."

Damn it. They had found the templar. Perhaps he should have listened to Howe and killed the man. Loghain pitied the poor man, truly. He was simply doing his duty. However, his sacrifice was needed in order to help reunite Fereden. Was there anything he could say? A flat outright denial would make him seem desperate. Loghain gritted his teeth and simply spoke his thoughts.

"I did what was necessary. The country had begun fighting amongst itself, and I needed to unite this country. Is Eamon not standing here today, in full health? If I had wanted to kill the man, I would have. And besides, the only reason that his village came under siege was because his wife-" Loghain did not even give Isolde the privilege of eye contact as he pointed straight at her "-tried to hide her mage son."

"I can't believe you're trying to justify poisoning innocent men," shot Aedan back. "Not just innocent men, a man who fought alongside you to free our country from Orlais."

"What happened in Redcliffe was horrific, but one man's life, no matter whose it is, pales in comparison to the lives that could be saved by a united Ferelden. Though an unsavoury method, it was necessary."

"And yet the civil war raged on," continued Aedan, who outstretched his arms and peered from lord to lady in the Landsmeet, "depleting our countries treasuries, already plundered by the exorbitant spending of his chosen lieutenant, Arl Howe."

Loghain snarled at Aedan's oration. "Will we really believe anything this man has to say about Arl Howe? After he murdered the man in his own home?'

Another Bann stood up from the crowd. "I have no objections to the slaughter of that brute. We have ignored his behavior for far too long, simply because we have had the Blight to worry about. My son...was held in that dungeon. The things they did...are unspeakable. Aedan Cousland saved my son, along with countless innocents from that wretched dungeon. If I could, I'd lay the killing blow myself."

"So poison is out of the question, but not murder?" stated Loghain "I fail to see the logical step here."

"What about slavery? Is that out of the question?"

Only scattered gasps broke the following silence. Aedan pulled from the sack in his side a letter and unfurled the contents. "Documents, with Loghain's seal, allowing Tevinter mages passage and free reign to take the elves of the Alienage as slaves, in exchange for coin."

Eamon shook his head at his former friend. "Maker, Loghain. Slavery? If we are to stoop that low, then what makes us better than the Orlesians-"

"Don't you ever compare me to those filthy bastards!" snapped Loghain. "The Alienage is lost. Though I allowed the slavery to occur, the plague was real for a time. Those elves would have died anyways. Their sacrifice has allowed Ferelden to remain strong."

"If this is the kind of decision-making we can expect from Loghain, why should we allow him to remain in power?"

"As if you are even better," scowled Loghain, "You would put a puppet on the throne! How do we even know if this man is even Cailan's son? It's simply another lie that you be conjured to fool this crowd."

From his sack, Aedan Cousland pulled out a lambskin package. With a weary look, he gazed down upon it for a moment, before pulling apart the string that held the lambskin together. He emptied out the contents: a letter penned in ink, with three wax seals at the bottom.

"Date 9:10 Dragon. Let us, the witnesses, confirm the legitimacy of Alistair Theirin's bloodline, descending directly from King Maric Theirin, and all the way from King Calenhad himself," read Aedan, "and affix our seals as confirmation." He looked back up to Loghain. "Then a bunch more legal words, but you get the jist. It would have been terrible if someone had stolen these. Anybody could have claimed that they were Alistair...but luckily we have two witnesses out of the three here today, with their seals to prove it."

"Arl Eamon," asked Aedan, "Do you confirm the man before us is Alistair Theirin, son of Maric, of the blood of Calenhad."

Eamon nodded."I do." He looked down upon Alistair and gave the young man a small, warm smile.

Aedan held the letter up towards Loghain. "Well, Loghain, shall it be another lie, or will you finally admit the truth?"

Loghain had no answer, no words he could say to get out of this. Where the hell had he gotten those documents? Maric had told him long ago he would keep them somewhere safe. It didn't make sense. None of this made sense. That man, the Warden, didn't make sense.

In response to Loghain's silence, Aedan answered, "A liar. A murderer. A thief. Is this the man we want leading Ferelden's armies? I think not."

The nobles turned to one another to discuss. Glances shot at Loghain from every angle from narrowed eyes, followed by hushed whispers. Loghain's eye twitched. He would not be judged by them, nor by the Warden.

"How about the man who kidnapped our queen? Where is our queen, Aedan? Where is my daughter?" roared Loghain, taking another step forward. The companions behind Aedan moved their hands towards their weapons at Loghain's motion. In response, the guards behind Loghain too put their hands on their sword hilts.

"Even if that man saved your own daughter?" said a familiar voice that used to tug at his hand and pout. Loghain whipped around to the voice, a wide smile forming.

"Anora, thank the Maker. Did the Warden hurt you? Where has he been-"

"I have been with the Warden of my own accord, Father." The woman crossed her arms and regarded her father with a cold glare, even for her. "You left me with Howe, knowing full well what could have happened. "

"If he had laid so much as a finger on you, I would have-"

"You would have done exactly the same as Aedan, or any of the other people in this room that Howe has made suffer. Yet you let him lock me away, simply to quiet me."

"Anora, you have been in politics long enough to unders-"

"I will no longer remain silent," breathed Anora so only Loghain could hear. For a moment, it was just Loghain and her in that room. Her eyes still looked at him, but he knew what would happen once she turned away.

_No no no, not her, anybody but her, please, Maker, no, don't turn away-_

Her back to her father, Anora addressed the Landsmeet. "Lords and ladies of the Landsmeet. If we are to survive this Blight, the Warden Aedan Cousland is the only hope that we have of survival. My father is no longer the man he once was…" Anora glanced back to look at him and swallowed once. "He is longer the Hero of River Dane. Just a man gone mad with power and pride."

Loghain's jaw went slack. He stared at his daughter, whom he had given his love, his pride into, everything. She gazed back without breaking eye contact. No words would leave his mouth, nor did any come to his mind.

"Fine," muttered Loghain under his breath, turning his back on his daughter to address the gathering. "Fine! Fine then! If this gathering is so intent on judging my character and my failings, then how about we put you on trial then, Warden!" screamed Loghain. The sound boomed through the entire chamber and very soul fell silent. "Tell me, how do you justify the sacrifice of an entire house of innocent dwarves, House Harrowmont, for the sake of your dwarven army? How is that any different than me poisoning Eamon? Which of us will he choose to sacrifice next?"

For once, that wretched brat stopped talking, but he didn't look away from Loghain. He continued to stare straight at Loghain, his fist clenched. For a moment, Loghain saw that same bitter expression he so often saw in the mirror, and the half-dead eyes that always peered back.

"Yes...I made a choice to allow that to happen," said Aedan. His voice, though softer than before and with a slight tremble, still carried to each and every ear. "I won't make excuses that I wasn't the one to carry out the executions. Because of my actions, a little more than five hundred innocent dwarves are being hunted or killed. At the very least, Loghain, we agree on one thing. That sacrifice is necessary in war.

"But yours was a different choice. I had to choose between an army of thousands of experienced dwarves with darkspawn-slaying experience, and the lives of five hundred. If I had to, I would make that choice again."

Aedan's hand shot out at Loghain, brandishing his finger like a sword. "You could have simply stepped down and allowed someone like Eamon to take your place, thus ending the civil war right then and there. Instead you continued, forcing our own countrymen to slaughter one another, and you depleted the treasury on a civil war and petty assassins. At that point, you could have admitted you were wrong, that what you had caused had depleted our resources. Instead you allowed slavery to occur in our lands to cover up your mistake, instead of asking for the other nobles here, or even other nations, for help."

"You know nothing! You have not seen what I have! Done what I've-"

"Do you want to know what I've seen, Loghain? I have seen demons that towered above buildings. I have fought the darkspawn horde in bowels of the Deep Roads. I have slain undead, cursed beasts, and even dragons. Of all the people here, I am the one that can save this country from the Blight- and if you have any shred of love left for it, you'll let me do so peacefully."

More nobles turned towards the Warden, looking at him with reverence. None of them could see, how could they be so blind to see that this man, this whelp, was tricking them with words and lies. How could he possibly fulfill his promises? He did not have Loghain's experience on the battlefield, he did not have Loghain's love of country.

_He can't be stronger._

_He can't be..._

_If he was...is...then what was the point of what I've done..._

"Waking Sea stands with the Warden," stated Bann Alfstanna.

"The Western Hills support the Warden," stated Arl Wulffe.

"Dragon's Peak stands with the Warden!"

The room rose from their seats, each shouting to the heavens the same blasted phrase, in an exuberance he had never seen in his time as Regent.

"I stand-

"-stand with-"

"-with the-"

"-the Warden!"

Amidst the rapid cheers, Loghain's head pounded like hammers striking an anvil. He looked around from face to face, looking for someone, anyone to look at him with something other than disgust or fear. He saw only scowls or indifference from the few who chose to look at him. Those who did not pointed their gazes towards the Warden. In the end, they were tossing him away like old garbage. He had done his duty for them, and now they were done with him.

"Traitors! Which of you stood against the Orlesians when their troops flattened our farmlands and raped our wives?" The room fell dead silent as Loghain drew his sword. His soldiers stood at attention. "None of you! You have grown fat and complacent on peace and indifference! None of you deserve a say in what happens here! None of you have spilled blood for this land like I have! NONE OF YOU!"

It couldn't end here. He couldn't let his country fall.

_I'm the only one...I'm the only one who can save them all. I have to do this._

"Men! To me!" he cried. His soldiers, not swayed by the pointless words of politicians, gathered behind him and drew their swords. Scream arose from the upper levels as guardsmen loyal to Loghain drew their weapons as well. Eamon's men responded in kind and met their opponent's show of force in kind. Silence filled the air as brother faced brother with outstretched sword.

"Enough! There has been bloodshed in this pointless struggle, Loghain." Aedan beckoned to his own companions. As they all lowered their weapons, the golem grumbled as it's fists lowered to it's side.

"Let us settle this," stated Aedan. "You and I- the one the soldiers will follow. No more words. Just the way it ought to be settled...the way the fate of Ferelden will be decided when the Archdemon descends."

Loghain paused. Even if Aedan had fought demon, darkspawn, and dragon alike, even if he had gathered an army to rival the one lost at Ostagar, it didn't matter. As long as here and now, Loghain beat him, then it would prove that Loghain was stronger...that he was right about everything. Then Ferelden would see. Loghain moved into a ready stance.

"At last something I do not detest leaves your mouth." He looked into Aedan's eyes with brow furrowed. At the very least, he would admit the boy was strong. To reach this point, to gather an army, to unite a land...it reminded him of fighting with Maric in the old days. Perhaps it would have been different if this man had fought by his side. The civil war could have been avoided. The treasury might not have been depleted. There would have been no need for Howe, Jowan, or the magisters. Loghain sighed at his own thoughts, then took a deep breath to clear his head. There was no place for hypothetical and what-ifs now. "Maric once said that a man is judged by the strength of his enemies." Loghain said, his voice weary, "I wonder if it's more a compliment to you or me."

Bann Alfstanna came to the front and beckoned for all other men to sheath their weapons. "Then it fought according to tradition: a test of arms in single combat until one side yields, and we who are assembled will abide by the outcome."

Aedan didn't say a word. Instead he gripped his sword and shield and stood at ready. In the end, Loghain thought to himself, this was for the best. No need for pageantry. No need for the opinions of those who didn't understand the battlefield. No need for candied words and poisoned daggers.

Loghain gripped his sword, then closed his eyes. His slowing heartbeat filled his ears and his breath steadied. This was all he needed. He need only stand alone. Even if all others abandoned him, he would pull through.

With a roar Loghain charged forward.


	64. Carry

Sword and shield collided in a blur of flashing steel. Aedan slammed his shield down into Loghain. The man blocked it with his own, and throttled Aedan backwards with a hefty push. Aedan caught his footing, slammed his feet into the ground, and rushed forward.

His shield bearing side pivoted forward to block the first strike of Loghain. In the instant Loghain's steel bounced off his shield, Aedan lunged forward, sword straight out. The sword grazed Loghain's armor and sparks flew. Aedan whipped his head back as Loghain shield cut upwards. In that brief window as Loghain's shield carried the regent to the right, Aedan chopped forward with his sword arm, flinging his upper body back up. Loghain grasped his sword with both hands to parry Aedan, sending the younger man back a few steps. Loghain closed the distance with a swerving side stroke. Aedan pushed his left leg back and braced his entire body before bringing his shield up to block.

As Loghain's blow slammed into Aedan's shield, Aedan grunted and weathered the force. There was a ferocity carried forth in Loghain's swing: the way the man gritted his teeth, as sweat flung from his forehead as his entire body swung in an arc to deliver his attacks. Aedan parried another strike, but Loghain's arm twisted mid-blow. His blade snaked about Aedan's, then struck forward. Aedan wrenched his neck to the side to avoid the blow.

Aedan clenched the hilt of his blade in his right hand. No matter how hard Loghain hit, he still hit softer than a golem, slower than a werewolf, and was certainly much smaller than a dragon. This was the last obstacle. The final push till Ferelden was united.

Aedan brought down his sword upon the edge of Loghain's shield, wrenching it straight out of the man's grasp. Loghain lept for his shield, but Aedan kicked it across the room. Loghain lept back up with both hands grasped around his sword. He lunged at Aedan with a straight jab of the sword, but Aedan side-stepped. He raised his sword above his head, and charged forward with a flurry of slashes. Each blow hit shook Loghain's grip harder, each parry pushed him further back. Loghain stumbled beneath his own footwork, sweat dripping down his panting face wrenched in disbelief. Every attempt to strike at Aedan was met with a precise block from Aedan's shield that shook Loghain's bones to their core.

Loghain slid backwards, and leaned down to catch his breath. His right knee fell to the ground. "I yield," he panted, "there's a strength in you I haven't seen since Maric."

The final obstacle had to be eliminated. Aedan stepped towards Loghain, yet his feet only took a single step. He wriggled his toes in his greaves. The feeling of blood pooling up between his toes sent a chill spread up to his ankles, despite his dry feet. There was nothing there, nothing at all, but like in his dreams Aedan waded forward through blood towards his next victim. Aedan gripped his sword. "Then, Loghain Mac Tir, I-"

Anora ran in between Aedan and her father, arms outstretched. A bead of sweat ran down her forehead. "Warden, hold on! My father has done terrible things, yes, but couldn't we still use him?" Her wet eyes bored into him. Aedan halted.

"The Grey Wardens could take him," stated a voice from behind. Aedan turned around to see Riordan approach in full Grey Warden garb. "We have enough resources to complete another Joining."

Alistair whipped towards Riordan with no trace of his usual smile."No. Absolutely not! Why would you even suggest that?"

"Did you not see that duel? He is a man of great physical prowess and tactical ingenuity. He is far more than ideal for a candidate for the Wardens, which we desperately need."

Alistair glanced up at the crowd, then lowered his voice. He grabbed Riordan by the arm and seethed, "Because he killed the rest of them! He sent men to kill us! He poisoned Eamon! He sold elves into slavery! How can you justify letting him live?"

Still kneeling by her father's side, Anora looked up at the gathered wardens."Yes, my father has done terrible things, but let him atone for them. I have heard joining the Grey Wardens often results in death, so let him join. You either have his death, or a soldier to fight by your side." Her fingers fidgeted as they grasped her father. "Please."

Aedan opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He looked at Riordan, than Anora, then back to Loghain. "Don't tell me you're thinking about this," breathed Alistair from behind. Aedan still gazed upon Loghain. Though he had just faced Aedan in combat, Loghain still stood, his breath slowly returning to him. The man did not breath fire, nor wield great magic, but Aedan had met few whose sword met his own with such force. Whatever reservations Aedan had about who would be the one to kill the Archdemon, he couldn't argue against having more. If he fell, someone else would need to deliver the blow. His own personal desires came second to the lives of Ferelden.

Aedan leaned in to whisper in his fellow Warden's ear, "Alistair, listen to me, we have to at least talk about this-"

The templar jerked his head back. "You're not actually considering this?"

"I need to tell you something about the Grey Wardens, about the Archdemon."

"There is no scenario in which Loghain can do something that we can't."

"Alistair, please, listen."

"I don't care about how you think you can use him, or whether he might might a good Warden. All I know is this. This man does not deserve to walk among us as brothers. Not after all he's done." Alistair spoke, his voice hoarse. "Ask from me a pound of my flesh, or all the gold in Orlais, but do not ask me to stand by that man as a brother." Alistair's throat clenched up. His next words ebbed out like a dying wound: "Not after all he's done. Not after what he did to Duncan."

As Alistair backed away from Aedan, Aedan saw the side of his mouth twitching. "It's him or me. I would follow you to the world's edge, but not with that man by our side. If you can accept that...monster, then you're not the man I thought you were." Alistair's hand lay on his sword hilt.

Aedan grimaced. To Alistair, Loghain was his Howe. Aedan couldn't count how many nights Alistair had talked of Duncan with sorrow. Howe had killed because of his greed. Loghain had caused the deaths of far more because of his pride. By Aedan's standards he deserved to be cut down. How would Aedan feel if Alistair chose to spare Howe? Aedan had made Alistair a promise. The same promise he had carried out for Leliana, for Shale, for Morrigan, for all the rest of his companions. 'I would fight for you...I would die for you…and I would kill for you.'

Despite that promise, when Aedan looked at Loghain, and Loghain back at him, it was as though through a mirror. Aedan peered at his scars- a nic on the nose, most likely from a sword come too close, discoloration from a burst of flame, tired eyes weary from war. They had none of the same scars, but yet the same ones.

Aedan beckoned Eamon to come over. "We can't just lock him up for now?" whispered Aedan in the Arl's ear. He glanced over at the eyes of the Landsmeet, all staring at him.

"Under any other circumstance, we could, but if Alistair and Anora are truly to be cemented in their rule, then his fate needs to be decided now, in front of all these people." Eamon too glanced up at the gazes that followed them. "He has done so much...good and bad...I don't know if I can pass impartial judgement on him. I have to ask you to be the one to do it." Eamon took backed away from Aedan, leaving the warden alone in the center of the Landsmeet chamber, standing several steps away from the kneeling Loghain and Anora.

Aedan took another step forward. Hadn't Loghain inflicted countless injustices against Aedan as well? Loghain had besmirched his family's name, lied to the country and headed a false manhunt against him, allowed his family's murderer free reign, and tortured him.

He took another step towards Loghain. His sword trembled in his hand. Aedan clamped his grip down.

Aedan couldn't deny what Anora had told him, when they had spoken in the Cousland estate. Yes, her father had wronged him, but Aedan more than anyone else could understand the decisions he had made. Loghain's decisions had been tainted by pride, but they were tainted by love of country as well. Was Aedan any different? He had killed Howe, not just for justice, but to satisfy his own wrath. He had made a risky trek towards Highever in a heavily injured state, not just to bury his parents, but to satisfy his own pride. He himself was a man teetering on the line between stoicism and instability. The incident with Adair in the basement only cemented that.

Did men like Loghain deserve death or redemption? What did Adair deserve? What did Teharel deserve? Aedan shut his eyes tight.

_What do I deserve?_

Where was the line? The line where a man became less than a man? The line between sacrifice and slaughter?

Aedan took his final step. Loghain knelt below him, now staring at the ground. Anora gazed up at the Warden, her cold expression unchanging, but with glassy eyes. Only an arm's length separated him and Loghain now. In his right hand, Aedan gripped his sword. His left hand hung by his side, palm open. He could simply reach out, cross that distance, offer the man his hand... or he could bring his sword down in a single swipe.

In the end, only a single choice separated them.

He took a deep breath in, paused, then held his sword out at Loghain. "For the deaths of the Ferelden Grey Wardens...for your crimes against the nation of Ferelden...Loghain Mac Tir, this Landsmeet calls for your death."

Loghain stared at the ground, still kneeling down on knee, and nodded. "Do what you must. I can rest easy knowing Ferelden is in your hands."

Anora's hands tightened around Loghain's shoulders and tugged them upwards. "Father, no!" She glanced at the encroaching Aedan then back at her weary father. Loghain remained still, but took his hand and patted the top of her head. "Daughters never grow up," he chuckled, "Always tugging at your hands, pigtails streaming behind them."

Aedan paused before Loghain. "I'm not killing you on your knees. Stand up and fight," spoke Aedan, no longer loud enough to reach the rest of the Landsmeet. Aedan picked up his sword and pointed it at Loghain. Loghain opened his mouth to protest, but stopped before speaking. He nodded and smiled.

Loghain gave his daughter a single kiss on the head when he stood up. Her grip loosened from his shoulders. She stumbled backwards as Loghain pushed her off. For one last time, Loghain gripped his sword and held it towards Aedan. The two men sprinted at one another. Their swords met in a first strike that echoed throughout the Landsmeet chamber.

As the sweat dripped from their foreheads and their swords clashed in barrage of steel and sparks, they exchanged no words. They had no need. Aedan parried and blocked Loghain's blows, the clash of metal rung louder than their previous duel. Loghain fought. No longer did disbelief or pride soften his blade. His sword ripped through the air, as though another man than a few minutes ago now fought.

Aedan lunged backwards, then took a large breath in. Loghain fought with everything he had, despite knowing he would lose. To fight with anything else but everything Aedan had would be an insult. The tainted blood in him swirled and rumbled. An imperceptible red mist filled the air around him. His veins darkened to a deep scarlet. The edges of Aedan's eyes filled with blood.

The wooden planks beneath his feet cracked and the wind roared against his face. Aedan's sword smashed down upon Loghain's shield. The force reverberated through both their limbs, sending Loghain staggering backwards. Aedan pressed forward, striking again and again against Loghain's shield. Aedan struck, Loghain stepped back. Aedan struck, Loghain stepped back. Aedan struck, Loghain stepped back.

Loghain knelt into a ready position, then lunged forward with a roar. He unleashed his own storm of heavy blows. Aedan met each blow with his blade, knocking aside Loghain's blade from its intended path.

Overkill? No. Loghain fought with everything he had. To not do the same would be an insult. This wasn't a battle for any nation, nor for anyone else. Not to prove anything, not to save anybody, not for any purpose but one.

Aedan and Loghain met in a final blow of their swords. They swung with everything they had been, everything they were, everything they hoped. The force of Aedan blow forced the already fatigued Loghain's sword downwards. In one quick pivot, Aedan grabbed Loghain's sword, pulled him inwards, and stabbed him through the cracks in his armor straight through the heart.

Loghain collapsed onto the standing Aedan. His head fell upon the other man's shoulder. His tired breaths wheezed in Aedan's ear. "You'll protect them?" whispered Loghain.

Aedan nodded. "I promise."

"Good," Loghain sputtered through a mouthful of blood."That's all...I ever wanted." His cheek dragged against Aedan's face as he slumped down onto the floor. Anora rushed to his side and cradled her father in arms. Aedan turned away from her, unable and unwilling to meet her eyes. Aedan removed his gauntlet, wiped his bare finger against his cheek, and stared at the single tear.

* * *

Eamon's guards tossed a cloth onto Loghain's face, then carried his body off on a stretcher. Aedan glanced over at Anora. She stood with perfect posture, her face set in a serene calm. Not even a half hour had passed, and she had already composed herself so well.

"Our last order, and perhaps most important, order of business. The issue of the rulership of Ferelden still needs to be resolved," orated Eamon to the chamber. The nobles looked expectantly at Aedan. He chose instead to motion towards Anora and Alistair. Anora nodded at Alistair. Alistair rubbed the back of his neck and nodded in return.

"Alistair Therin and I intend to wed, and rule jointly."

The king to be cleared his throat, his forehead scrunching up as he attempted to remember his prepared speech."Fellow people- I mean, lord and ladies of the Landsmeet, the time has come to do battle- I mean, not against one another-"

Anora interrupted, "What our King means to say is this- for too long have we fought against one another and faced this Blight divided. The time has come to unite and end this Blight once and for all. On the field of battle we shall meet the darkspawn as a united country, with the Warden, Aedan Cousland, as the general of Ferelden armies leading the charge. Your future King still has his duties as a Grey Warden, and will join his troops on the battlefield."

"Yes...that was exactly what I was going to say." Alistair cleared his throat again, stood up straighter, and crossed his fist across his chest. "People of Ferelden! In the name of the Grey Wardens, we will save our country from the Blight!"

The crowds cheered and applauded. As the commotion died down, Arl Eamon came out in front of Alistair and Anora. "The evening has grown long. Let this meeting be adjourned, and we shall convene tomorrow to discuss the plans for the army," finished Eamon. As the nobles cleared from the balcony, they instead flocked to the the main chamber to greet their new monarchs. Aedan mouthed, 'Good luck' to the cringing Alistair, before slapping him once on the back. Aedan stepped into the shadows beneath the balconies.

Morrigan brushed her hand against Aedan's arm and stood beside him. "Another victory. Well done."

Aedan watched as Arls and Banns alike clamored for even a second of the new king's attention. Alistair tried to wade his way through the crowd to escape, but Anora pinched him in the side, and Alistair ceased his escape.

"This is really happening, isn't it?" Aedan said to Morrigan.

"Why do you say that?"

"It was just us three after Ostagar, standing in that swamp. It had to come to this to save this country, but standing here, as it happens, is...strange. Alistair's going to be king. I'm going to be the commander of all of Ferelden's army. I thought I was just going to get a bunch of important people to sit down at a table and come to the general consensus they didn't want to die. Did you really think we'd get here? You were very skeptical at the beginning."

Morrigan tilted her head to the side, with gaze unfocused. She tapped her finger against her cheek whilst pondering. "I thought we'd still be on the road. Still just sitting around that fire while the templar complained about my cooking. You with scavenged armor that you looted from the dead."

"You know I stopped doing that."

"I can smell that you stopped doing that."

"...Harsh, but fair."

The witch sighed. "It seems we're all in very different places then we'd thought we'd be." Morrigan glanced up at Aedan, and their eyes met. Aedan smirked. The witch flinched, crossed her arms, and scowled.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

"That smile of yours is unbecoming."

"You like it."

Morrigan motioned her head in the direction of Riordan. The man leaned against the wall across the Landsmeet chamber, staring at Aedan with crossed arms. "It would seem someone wants to talk to you."

"Wow, what an absolute surprise." Aedan rubbed his brow, groaned, and rolled his eyes. "I'll see you later." He turned around to say goodbye, but saw a flash of light from the hallway behind him, followed by the flapping of crow wings. Aedan proceeded to part his way through the crowd. Various nobles flocked about him.

"My armies are at your command, Warden!"

"I have several thoughts on where we should start the campaign!"

"It will be an honor to fight by your-"

He chuckled at the fact that no more than a few weeks ago they were all liable to stab him. "I'm sorry," smiled Aedan. "I have warden business to attend to. Please excuse me. You can direct your questions to Eamon and he will relay them to me later." Free of the crowd, Aedan waved at Riordan. The other warden, still with arms crossed, observed the approaching Aedan with tight lips and stern brow.

"I guess you want to talk about Loghain," said Aedan as he halted in the shadows.

Riordan sighed and shook his head. "We could have used him. What happens if all three of us die?"

"Alistair would have left."

"I thought after hearing of the sacrifices you had made, that you would understand." Riordan narrowed his eyes. "Grey Wardens accept anyone. Thief, murderer, warlord, we don't care. We will do whatever it takes to stop the Blight. Their past is irrelevant. I thought you of all people would understand."

Aedan leaned against the wall next to Riordan. He gave a single, bitter laugh. "I still remember what Duncan told me that becoming a Grey Warden meant leaving behind your old life. That whatever you were beforehand didn't matter…but that's not true. Everything a man does, everything he experiences, every fight, every loss, and every sacrifice, leaves its mark on him. All of that makes a man at the moment when he does the important thing a person does."

"What's that?"

"Choose." Aedan's head leaned back and he stared into the balcony above. "Loghain chose to do what he did. He had a choice, between sacrificing innocents, or sacrificing himself." Aedan pointed over at Loghain. "The decisions he made? They would have always been a part of him. They were him. The pride and hate overpowered his love for country, and let him do horrific things for the wrong reasons. That's the kind of man we would have let in." Aedan pointed back over at Alistair. "And the kind of man we would have let go? He's choosing to help his country by taking up a throne he never wanted. He stood by me even in the darkest of times."

"Aedan, there's no line that we won't cross to save Thedas, you have to understand."

"Then we draw it, Riordan. We can be-" Aedan paused, clenched his fist, and murmured, "I want to be- better than just soldiers. Better than just Wardens."

"Did you truly think he was beyond redemption?"

Aedan's expressionless face stared out, unfocused, into the crowd. "Redemption is pointless. You can't erase the past. You can only live with what you've done. At the end of the day, you still have to look yourself in the mirror. A thousand lives saved and a hundred lives sacrificed doesn't equal nine hundred lives saved. It equals a thousand lives saved and a hundred lives sacrificed."

His gaze followed Loghain's body on the stretcher. "He would have had to live with it all. I wonder if he's the luckier one." Aedan gulped and fiddled with the flask by his side. He needed a drink. His fingers brushed against the cover. His tongue burnt in anticipation of the incoming alcohol. His head pounded. "There's only so much one can carry."

Riordan stared straight forward. He watched the nobles scurrying about without a word leaving his mouth. He uncrossed his arms, and turned towards Aedan to speak. "I may not agree with you, but you are the one that has carried the country this far. For better or worse, we are comrades in war." Riordan offered his hand out.

Aedan met it with his right hand, and gave Riordan a half-smile. "In war, victory."

Riordan returned the half-smile. "Perhaps one day after this war, we shall meet in peace."

Aedan's finger itched against own left palm."Somehow I doubt that."

"Well, then...in death, sacrifice."

The two men exchanged one last handshake. Riordan disappeared into the now dissipating crowd of nobles. Aedan glanced around. Finally, nobody around. No more questions, no more demands, he could finally get what he needed. His hands clenched around the flask. Maybe he could find a corner, somewhere he could drink. The Landsmeet was done now, he could enjoy himself. He needed to. He had to. It didn't matter in the long run, just one sip, just enough to take the edge off.

Aedan excused himself into a dark corner of the Landsmeet chamber. Hands trembling, he uncorked the flask. Footsteps echoed behind him. Aedan slammed the cap back onto the flask and stuffed it by his side. The two guards carrying Loghain passed by him. They placed the body in front of him and saluted. "Warden. Eamon asked us to let you take care of the body."

"Me?"

One of the guards scowled down at the corpse. "If you ask me, you might as well throw him to wolves for what he's done."

"Surprised Arl Eamon didn't just leave him to rot," replied the other.

Aedan gazed upon the corpse. The blood soaked into the fabric of the stretcher. If Aedan simply left the body here, it would stand for hours before anyone knew where it was.

"Carry it out into the courtyard north of here."

* * *

Aedan counted himself lucky for the abundance of firewood stored in the Landsmeet chamber. After a long day, the thought of striking an axe against wood again and again elicited a tired groan. In as neat a pattern he could, Aedan lay down a pyre of firewood in the center of the courtyard. By now the guards had lit torches to stave off the darkness of night. Aedan plucked one from its wall and carried it towards the pyre upon which lay Loghain's body. The flames illuminated the blood trickling down from Loghain's abdomen.

Soft, hesitant footsteps strode towards Aedan. He could guess only one other person who would be here. "Anora," greeted Aedan, without turning around. He glanced to the side as Anora's face entered the torch's illumination. He offered the torch out to her. Anora grasped the torch in her own hand. She held it near the face of her father and paused. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and brought the flame down upon the pyre. The two stepped back as the fire erupted.

The queen did not glance once towards Aedan whilst the two observed the blaze. Aedan shifted in place and grimaced. Finally, Anora spoke, her voice hoarse and quiet. "I know what you're thinking. That I hate you."

"Wouldn't blame you."

"I don't. I understand why you did what you did. Any other court would have killed him anyways, but you showed him respect in his final moments, and you built this."

Anora sighed. "It would have been easier if you had simply spat in his face and insulted him like everyone is doing. Then I could have hated you."

For a while longer they observed the fire in silence.

"You know," said Aedan, "when I was a kid, we used to play Rebels vs Orlesians. The other children would argue over being Maric. I always wanted to play as Loghain, the Hero of River Dane. Never thought I'd end up here."

Anora rubbed at her eyes. "You two were so alike. Truth be told, I wasn't sure which one of you would win at first, but then again, tis impossible for anyone to stand against the invincible Warden."

Aedan grimaced at that name. Warden. "You know, people keep calling me that. They think the Warden is invincible. They think he can mow down armies with a single swipe. His very presence brings hope onto the battlefield and rallies men against impossible odds." Aedan scoffed and shook his head. "I'm not special. I was just lucky. Someone was there at the right time. In reality, somebody else could have filled my shoes. Maybe an elf from the Alienage. Maybe a dwarf from Dust Town. Maybe a mage from the Tower."

He whispered the name beneath his breath. Warden. He rubbed his forehead. "I used to like that name. Not so much anymore."

"So why did you win?" Anora wrung her hands in front of her with eyes still affixed to the burning pyre. The flames had all but consumed her father's face, but still the queen stared deep into the fire for it. "I don't mean the duel. Any fool could see you would win that. To get to the point of the duel though...how did you get there, and how come he couldn't prevent it? I just can't understand it. He was...he was the Hero of River Dane. He was my father. I...Maker-" Anora bit her quivering lip, tears welling up at the sides of her eyes.

Aedan closed his eyes, and took a deep breath in. The cinders filled his nose, and the cold wind blew up against his face. How many times had he smelt this, felt this? Highever, Ostagar, Lothering, and countless more. How many bodies had he burnt? How many ghosts followed him? If he closed his eyes, he concentrated hard enough, he could still hear them, all of them. Whispering in his ear, accusing him.

_Should have done more-_

_Monster-_

_Weak-_

Yet he took another deep breath in. He concentrated on not just the cinders filling his nose, but the warmth that radiated from the fire. The cold wind that blew against his face contrasted with it, cooling his face.

Another breath in. He opened his eyes, and saw only the flames. He heard only silence.

"He was carrying too much," he whispered. "Too much hate...too much pride...too much regret, and he didn't let it go. It twisted him, and turned him into someone else."

"So all he had to do was let go?" Anora let out one hollow chuckle. "You make it sound so easy."

"It's not." Aedan's fingers fidgeted by his side. They brushed against the cool metal of his flask. "It takes the most strength to let go. The longer you hold onto something, the more it changes you. It becomes a part of you."

He knelt down, picked up another piece of firewood, and threw it into the flames. "A man who clung to his pride sent the country he loved into ruin. A man consumed with envy murdered his closest friends. A man consumed with rage allowed innocents to suffer and almost killed his people. A woman consumed with desire let her entire house die. And men consumed by regret…"

Aedan stood back up. His flask pulled down upon his leg like an iron weight, whispering to him. He gripped it by the neck and fiddled with it. He stared at the elven tree carved into it. It looked just like the tree that now resided over Teharel's corpse. As his finger wrapped around the flask, the cold, steady feeling of steel no longer pushed back against his fingers- instead the feel of Adair's neck pushed back.

"In the end, your father was still a man. Just like me. Just like the greatest of us. Just like the worst of us. He wasn't broken. He wasn't invincible. He was just...Loghain Mac Tir."

Anora sniffled in front of the fire. Her fingers rubbed her watery eyes again. Aedan patted her on the back. "Someone once told me that tears are for the weak." Clenched breaths sputtered out of Anora's quivering mouth as she nodded.

Aedan gazed upon the pyre of yet another death wrought by his hand, of the man who he once thought a hero, of his greatest enemy, of the one of the only people in Ferelden who understood Aedan's experiences, yet had directly caused much of them. How much time did he have left in this world, until he too would lay upon a pyre?

Even at the end though, it didn't matter. In the time he had left, whether it be weeks, a few days, or even one moment, he was standing, and still capable of taking even a single step forward.

His eyes met Loghain's face as the fire devoured it. Those same eyes that he had faced in combat, that he saw in the mirror in the mornings, now burnt to ash.

"So let them out," said Aedan, "You should only hold onto things that make you stronger."

Through his hand he could feel the Queen's chest quiver. Anora looked straight forward, her body shaking. Tears escaped her eyes and dripped down her face. Quiet sobs escaped her sealed lips. The two only stood together a little while longer, before Anora wiped away her tears, then rushed off.

Aedan held his chilled hands over the dying fire. The faint outline of Loghain's corpse still remained amongst the flames. Aedan emptied the last contents of his flask onto it. The fire blazed up once more. The flames dragged on till nothing but ash remained of Loghain. Aedan still gripped his flask over the pyre, the last of the orange flames still flickering. His hand gripped the flask till it trembled. The final golden drops shook loose onto the smoldering pile.

Aedan dropped the flask into the fire, then walked away.

* * *

**PART 7 END**

* * *

 


	65. Five

* * *

**Part 8: Love**

* * *

Morrigan's eyes fluttered open. Morning light trickled onto her face. She parted aside the locks of raven hair that covered her face. She strained to lift her head from the pillow, but the soft fabric, warmed by the sun, dragged her head back down. Morrigan settled into the pillow further in defeat. Was Aedan awake? Morrigan rolled her head over to see only his back. The warden slumbered in silence upon his side. Morrigan reached out, her hands hovering over the scars on Aedan's back. She brushed over the lighter skin colored stitches that Eamon's medics had put in to replace Avernus's thick, crude stitching. Despite them not practicing magic, Morrigan smiled at their handiwork as her finger trailed down the smooth surface. The smile dissipated as she felt the rough, sinewy threads of what remained of Avernus's handiwork.

Aedan lay perfectly still, his breaths slow and peaceful. Morrigan glanced once again in his direction. She very rarely saw him like this. No tossing. No turning. No muttering. Was he asleep? Truly, peacefully asleep? Morrigan nudged his back with her hand. A small mumble escaped from him, but nothing more. Morrigan scooched in closer. The bed creaked. Morrigan froze in place as Aedan rustled a bit, but lay still once again. She slid in closer until his hair grazed her face. His tousled hair smelled faintly of sweat. She paused, her nose lingering against Aedan, waiting for any sort of movement from him. She took another breath in.

As not to disturb the bed, Morrigan propped herself up by her arms. She hovered over his face, peering at the slight movement of his lips as breath escaped them. Twas not strange at all to be watching him, no, not all, thought Morrigan to herself. It was simply observing a rare phenomenon. Like a clear night sky with stars, or a new breed of plant. If anything, not looking at him would be foolish, irresponsible even. She was ensuring he was getting proper sleep.

Morrigan's face drifted in closer. A stray hair of Aedan's tickled Morrigan's nose. The witch's nose twitched, then she sneezed onto Aedan's face. Morrigan flipped over then covered herself with the blankets, quickly wiping any remnant of her deed from her flushed face. Aedan grumbled and cracked one eye open. His head creaked towards Morrigan. "Did you just sneeze right in my face?"

Morrigan rolled over on her side with her back to Aedan. "No."

Aedan dragged a single finger down his cheek, then stared at the thin layer of snot and saliva dripping off it. "Why is my face wet?"

"Probably a draft or something."

"Whatever." Aedan rolled back onto his side. "Next time, don't sneeze on my face if you're going to watch me sleep."

Morrigan flipped over to face Aedan, but he had already rolled back onto his side. "I wasn't watching you sleep."

"Okay," yawned Aedan.

"I wasn't."

"I said okay."

"Your tone didn't."

"My tone is saying 'I want to go to sleep.''

"I wasn't."

"Just trying to catch some shut-eye, but I get sneezed on, then I get argued at."

Aedan rolled over directly onto Morrigan, unsupported by any of his limbs. The witch squeaked beneath the weight of Aedan, her body sinking further into the mattress.

"You're crushing me."

"Don't sneeze on me next time."

"Consider how much you weigh, and how little I do."

"Now she's calling me fat. There's a third on the list," Aedan drooped his head down on Morrigan's pillow. "Smells nice."

"Do not fall asleep on me," groaned Morrigan from underneath. "And stop smelling my pillow. That's…just don't do it."

"Fine, then just stop talking and let me sleep, woman." Aedan rolled on his side

As Aedan settled back into his blankets, Morrigan muttered under her breath, "-orry,"

"Did you say something?"

"No."

Aedan flipped over and cradled Morrigan from behind. "Really? Thought I heard something."

"I sneezed."

Morrigan heard Aedan chuckle from behind her. The man turned to peer out the open window. "Probably best I woke up anyways. Last day in Denerim. We've probably got a lot to do- drills to run, armies to organize-"

The warmth of Aedan chest against her back dissipate. His muscled arms loosened from around her, and the sheets rustled in movement. Morrigan's Morrigan tugged Aedan's arms back around her.

"Ferelden can wait for five more minutes."

"...Five more minutes then."

* * *

Morrigan watched from the hallway as Aedan conversed with Eamon. Usually at times like this, Aedan's brow furrowed as he and Eamon discussed the preparations for the army. Morrigan would barely see him at all during the day while Aedan trained and organized the troops for the coming battle.

Not that she hadn't been busy. Only yesterday, after hours of digging through the Denerim forests as a dog, had she finally found a crucial herb she had needed for her upcoming plans. Truth be told, it grew abundantly in the Brecilian Forest, but she had put off collecting it then.

How long ago was that? A little less than a year ago. Morrigan chided herself for her ill-preparedness. Why had she not done it then? She glared at the cause as he returned.

"What did I do?" asked Aedan.

"Nothing."

Aedan shrugged. "Apparently, I have the day off. Nothing more I can personally do."

From behind Aedan, Morrigan saw Eamon give her a nod and smile. Morrigan looked away and covered her mouth, as though scratching her cheek. "Oh."

"You know, if you cover your mouth every time you smile, then I know you're smiling."

Morrigan removed her hand to reveal a less than amicable expression. Aedan beamed. "There's my favorite scowl." Morrigan grumbled under her breath as Aedan held her from behind.

"And what, may I ask, have you planned for today then?"

"I...I'm not sure. Maker, I think this is the first free day I've had since...well, since this all began. Maybe I'll take a nap."

"A nap. How lazy are you? You just woke up."

"I honestly don't know what else to do."

"Really."

"I'm serious. We've had some free time on the road, but never a full day."

The witch glanced up at Aedan and tugged a little tighter on his arms. "You can't think of one thing."

"...Maybe I'll make a sandwich. I haven't had a good sandwich in a while."

Morrigan coughed into her hand.

"What?"

Morrigan coughed again.

"Are you sure you don't have a cold or something? First the sneezing, now the coughing."

The witch rolled her eyes, leaned her lips into his neck, and breathed down his skin with a single breath.

"Oh. OH." Aedan scooped up Morrigan in his arms and rushed down the hallways.

* * *

"GET OUT."

Aedan ducked his head as a half-finished steel helm grazed the tip of his hair. "Geez, just coming to check on my order."

"Your 'order' has lost me thousands in profits!" Herren shouted from behind his shop counter. "The Ferelden army marches and needs new equipment, but what is Wade doing? Fiddling with your dragon remains for free! FREE!"

Morrigan sighed. Despite her own wishes to remain indoors for the rest of the day, Aedan had remembered one minor thing he had to check on. She leaned over by the door, watching the shopkeeper and Aedan bicker. At the very least, she had a show to watch.

Wade burst out through his workshop door. "Herren! How dare you speak to my muse like that!" He held a still steaming piece of alloy in his tongs and showed it to Aedan. "I am putting the final flourishes on your armor."

"So it'll be ready today as planned?"

"Yes! And it is glorious, truly worthy of the man who will kill the Archdemon."

"Have it delivered to the Cousland estate."

"Oh, Warden, it is a blessing that you have brought to me. Working with these dragon scales brings forth a artistry in me that I had long forgotten. This will be my greatest masterpiece- armor worthy of being worn by the Grey Warden who will save us all." Wade draped his arm around Aedan's shoulder and outstretched his other in a broad stroke across the horizon. Morrigan raised an eyebrow at the sight of Wade staring into empty space with that crazed smile of his.

"Picture it."

"I'm trying, but you haven't even shown me a design. No offense."

"None taken. My artistry cannot be comprehended by the plebeian masses."

"Well, offense taken."

"And I must say, that lad you brought in to do the enchantment work, what a marvel to work with! Such intelligence, such grace."

"Him?" spat Herren from behind the counter, "The boy that only said 'Enchantment'? The kid named after a shoe?"

"Herren! You simply do not understand artists like that boy and I! The art consumes us, till it is all we think about, till all we, us tortured souls, desire to do is it! I am ashamed to say, but that young lad has surpassed me in the path of an artist. I am weak, and need these superfluous words and things, but that boy, he needs only one thing, only one word." Wade held one hand over his heart, closed his eyes, and smiled to himself. "Enchantment."

Morrigan took a step backwards towards the door, tugging on Aedan to do the same. Aedan yanked her back before Wade opened his eyes.

"Do not worry your little mind about the armor, Warden. You swing your sword, and I'll make you look good while doing it."

"Also, protect my body from being grievously wounded."

Wade held his fingers up to Aedan's mouth, pressing his fingers hard against the other man's lips. "Ssshhh. Important things first." Wade rushed back into his workshop with a childlike squeal, followed by roaring of the bellows.

Aedan rubbed his sleeve against his mouth over and over. "I don't think he washed his hands."

"You're washing your face before I even considering getting near it again," stated Morrigan.

"Did you just say you wanted a kiss?" Aedan swerved his mouth towards the witch, but Morrigan smushed her hand against Aedan's face.

"No."

"I'm hurt." Aedan wiped his mouth again. Morrigan watched him glance at the armor on the stands, back at her, then back at the armor. The Warden cleared his throat, glanced at her again, then shot his eyes at a set of hardy leather armor on display. Morrigan narrowed her eyes at him. A scowl curled at the edge of her lips. Aedan pointed over at the armor and nodded several times. Morrigan narrowed her eyes even further. Aedan motioned to the area of his upper chest, then pointed at Morrigan's.

"Not this again," groaned Morrigan.

"Look, I'm just saying, we're about to enter a battlefield filled with darkspawn." Aedan waved his hand again over Morrigan's exposed front. "Maybe cover yourself more."

"We're not having this discussion again."

"We're going to keep having it until you start wearing actual armor."

"I can conjure the forces of nature, earth, fire, ice alike. I can shapeshift into creatures whom men scurry away from. I don't need-"

Aedan's finger flicked Morrigan's nose. The witch paused, rubbed her nose with clenched teeth, then snapped her fingers.

* * *

"This is not an- ow- appropriate response!"

The afternoon wind carried Morrigan upwards on her raven wings after her fifth circle about Aedan's head. Aedan fled out Wade's front door, then bolted down the streets of Denerim. Morrigan dived in to peck his head again. His hand engulfed the entirety of her vision, but Morrigan swerved to the left to avoid his flailing.

"One nose flick does not equal twenty pecks from a bird!"

Morrigan flew straight into his face and pecked at his forehead. Aedan's hand almost grazed her wing as she fled upwards.

"Mother, why is that man talking to a bird?" asked a small child passing by. His mother covered her child's eyes, then tugged her child away by the hand. "Shh, just ignore him, child."

Aedan jabbed a finger up at Morrigan. "Now people think I'm crazy. Well, of course I'm crazy, I'm outside with you, why did I think I could have a normal day?"

Morrigan cawwed back at him from above. Aedan glared back at her, then fled into a nearby alleyway, cradling the top of his head in his hands. Morrigan dived in again and pecked at his fingers.

"Fine! I give up!" Aedan threw his hands into the air. Morrigan perched atop Aedan's shoulder. She closed her eyes, cleared her head, and concentrated only on the image of her human form. Light burst from around her, and Morrigan stood behind Aedan. She draped her arms around his neck. "Is someone mad?" she crooned in his ear.

"No." Aedan crossed his arms and grumbled under his breath. Morrigan smiled and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"If I'd known I'd make you angry, I'd  _never_ had done such a terrible thing."

"We both know that's not true."

Morrigan poked her finger up against Aedan's cheek and crooned in his ear, "What if I do that thing you like?" She felt the man jump a little beneath her.

"That? Here, now? In public?"

"There's an alley over there. Nobody'll see us there."

* * *

"Yeah...that's the stuff."

"Quiet, or I stop."

Morrigan held her glowing hands over his head. She ran her fingers through his now messy hair, lingering on the pecks she had caused.

"You know, ever since you introduced this cross-stitching when you mend my wounds, all my other ones feel awfully jealous. Feels great afterwards."

"First off, the amount of mana required to do this is wasteful, considering the only marginal benefit over standard healing is that 'it feels better'. Second off, this seems to have encourage you to accumulate more wounds. I told you to stop using that stupid ability of yours until all your wounds are properly stitched and healed."

"Just been training hard, trying to find the exact limit I can push with this damn thing."

"If you're not careful, you'll end up bleeding out and…"

Morrigan cut herself off. Her hand gripped Aedan's shoulder. Her chest tightened. Aedan placed his own hand over hers.

"At the very least, until I reach the Archdemon, I won't die. I promise."

Morrigan gulped, and steadied her own voice. "Good. Tis wrong to ignore one's responsibilities." She continued her healing in silence, for the topic had strayed to foreign 'd never talked about the future, the two of them together. What could she say? She knew there was none with him, not after the final battle. But he wouldn't talk of it either- did he know? He couldn't know of her plans to come.

Perhaps he knew of the fate of the slayer of an Archdemon. No, no, that couldn't be. He was barely even a warden when they found him. He hadn't even known about the Calling. Alistair didn't even know about what happened when a Warden killed the Archdemon.

Morrigan bit her lip. Aedan looked back up at her. For a split second his face soured, but he broke into a grin instead. "Let's grab something to eat shall we?"

At the sight of that smile, Morrigan's chest lightened and warmed. She sighed and gave a small smile back. "Is that all you ever think about?" she laughed.

* * *

Morrigan stared at the rest of the customers in the patio area of the cafe. Some dared to stare back, even muster a frown at her outfit. She ignored them and turned back to Aedan, who finished off the last bite of his sandwich.

"Would you like anything for dessert?" asked the waiter.

Aedan scrolled down the menu. "You want anything?" he asked to Morrigan without looking back up.

Morrigan looked down the paper, filled with strange names with frilly accented letters. "I'll pass."

Aedan held up a single finger. "Can I get the chocolate cake?"

"Certainly," said the waiter, "May I suggest a red wine to pair with it?"

Aedan's face twitched. "I'm...good." After the waiter left, Aedan swallowed, wiped his forehead, and took a deep breath. "Really looking forward to this cake," he half-laughed. His hand scratched at his side where his flask used to be. He wrung his hands for a few moments, until the waiter returned promptly with a slice of dark brown cake.

Aedan picked up his fork and gestured to his dish. "Feel free to have some."

"Ah. Cake." Morrigan poked at the velvety pastry with her finger. Crumbs stuck to her fingertip, which she flicked off.

"Don't tell me you've never had cake before," laughed Aedan as he tore a piece of the cake off with his fork. Morrigan looked away. Right before Aedan put the cake in his mouth, he saw Morrigan's apprehension and paused. "You've seriously never had cake before."

"We did not have an oven in the swamps, and travelling with you has mostly been bland stews and charred rabbit." Morrigan scowled at Aedan, who merely shook his head whilst chuckling. "And it's brown and mushy. Need I tell you what most of the brown and mushy things in the swamp are?"

Morrigan found Aedan's piece being thrust in front of her. "Try it."

"Tis...brown. And fluffy. And filled with strange chunks of...something brown. Are sure this not some form of mud? I would not put it above you to pull some sort of prank."' Morrigan pushed the cake away with a single finger.

"I'm sure if I wanted my face melted off there are easier ways to do so." Aedan placed it in his mouth, took a moment to savour it, and smiled.

"You think Alistair's cooking is 'okay'. I'm not taking your advice in regards to taste."

"Fine. I'll just eat it all by myself." Aedan took another bite, then rubbed his stomach. "So good."

"Fine." Morrigan held up a single finger. "One bite, if only to get you to stop making that smug face."

Aedan took another piece from the cake and held it in front of Morrigan. "My face isn't smug."

"Sorry, I guess that's just your normal face."

Morrigan leaned in to bite down on cake placed on Aedan's fork. With each chew, the sweet, dark, rich sensation spread through her mouth. Her mind went blank. Morrigan leaned her head back and groaned, "I have never hated my mother more in my entire life for depriving me of this." She picked up her own fork, then cut a small piece from the cake. Aedan laughed and reached for another piece, only to find his fork flung away by Morrigan's magic.

"Oh no, I'm not sharing this. Get something else," smirked Morrigan.

* * *

As the two left the cafe, Aedan paused at the sigh of a hooded figure, hesitating outside of a worn wooden door in an apartment building. "Is that Alistair under that hood?"

Morrigan peered over to indeed see a figure she recognized well. Despite the templar's- or should she call him a king now- best effort to hide his identity, Morrigan glanced at the tell-tale soup stains that covered Alistair's favorite, and only, cloak. Alistair paced back and forth before the building, fiddling with fingers and muttering something.

"Looks nothing like him." Morrigan looped her arm in Aedan's and attempted to drag him away. "Let's go, not much daylight left-"

"No, that's him," said Aedan as he stood in place, whilst Morrigan continually attempted to pull him away. Her feet made trails in the dirt below as she tugged in place. "Maybe we should just check in, see if if everything's alright."

Morrigan released her grip on Aedan, then leaned on her knees, panting. Aedan peered over at her. "I think you need some more strength training."

"Honestly, I don't understand how you've gotten anything done when you're running off doing all these side-errands for people."

"What side errands?"

"Oh Warden, please donate ten poultices to us!" mocked Morrigan, "Oh Warden, please try to find the hidden history of my family! Oh Warden, get my acorn back for me!" Morrigan rolled her eyes. "We literally retrieved an acorn for a rhyming tree."

"...He was very polite about it, though."

"Shall we rescue kittens from tree now as well?"

Morrigan crossed her arms, and stared Aedan down. Aedan in response turned around, waved his arm at Alistair, and shouted, "Hey buddy! How's it going!"

Helping people. Always helping people. Morrigan sighed. Try as she might, she couldn't change that part of him. Then again, she might not be alive if she had. Morrigan rubbed her face with her hand, and peeked out through the cracks to watch Aedan and Alistair converse. By now she had mentally blocked out most of what the templar said. Something something,"Goldanna", something something, "sister."

The two entered into the hovel before them whilst Morrigan waited outside. She leaned on the wall outside whilst the shouting inside commenced. A shrill, bitter voice emanated from within, followed by the crying of children, and hushed silence. Surprisingly, she did not hear a single weapon unsheathed.

Aedan and Alistair walked back out of the hovel, both rubbing the back of their necks and grimacing. "You okay?" asked Aedan.

"I always pictured...a family. Somebody who'd accept me with a smile. Who didn't care that I was a prince, or a templar, or a Warden." Alistair looked back behind him and sighed. "Instead I got that."

Aedan patted his friend on the back."You don't need her. You got other people who care about you."

Alistair smiled. "Thanks."

As the Alistair began to walk off, his eyes met Morrigan's. Vitriolic words lingered on her tongue- fool, dreamer, idiot. People were only out for themselves, had he not learnt that yet?

Her mouth opened.

_People were only out for-_

She caught Aedan in the corner of her eye, his hand still on his friend's back.

_-themselves._

Morrigan closed her lips, and glanced away.

Alistair halted in his path. "Maker, I'm going to feel weird if you don't say something mean."

"So I attempt to be considerate and this is what I get? Perhaps next time a darkspawn has you in its clutches I shall simply let it kill you."

"There we go." Alistair stretched his arms and looked at the darkening sky. "Well, guess I'm going to get going now. Oghren bet me that he could finish an entire nug in under a minute tonight, so I'm either going to make a lot of money or see something amazing." He waved the two off and grinned. "Don't burn anything down, you two."

After the templar had left, Morrigan brushed her hand against Aedan's arm. "What next? The day grows short." She pointed up at the sun, drifting down towards the horizon.

Aedan scratched his chin. "I might know a place."

* * *

Aedan heaved himself onto the roof of the watchtower, then peered at the raven perched on his shoulder. "You know, you could have climbed with me."

Morrigan concentrated for a brief moment, and her vision went white. Her feathers morphed into fingers, and the feeling returned to her legs. She knelt down from atop the tower and offered Aedan her hand. "Didn't someone just say I needed more strength training? A damsel such as myself would have been unable to climb such a long and arduous journey." As Aedan reached for her hand, Morrigan instead poked Aedan's cheek with her finger and walked off.

"That long and arduous journey could have been strength training," grunted Aedan as he stood up. Morrigan sat over the edge of the building, letting her legs hang off the side.

"Not worried about falling?"

"Why? I'll just shapeshift."

Aedan stood behind her. He stepped a little bit towards the edge, but backed away. "I'll just stay over here, if you don't mind. Still get the grand view, without the risk of becoming a splatter on the ground."

Morrigan looked down upon the entire city from above. People scattered about like ants in the marketplace. The shops had started to wrap up their goods and close up. She had seen the bustling marketplace in the day in many towns, but she had never stopped to see them close up.

"I thought you might like the view," said Aedan, "I used to come up here all the time, bring a sandwich, and I'd look down on the city...and all my problems would seem so small."

"Tis not a bad view," remarked Morrigan.

"I can think of a better one."

"That was absolutely terrible." Morrigan gagged. "Was that your standard play? You bring a lady up here, get her to comment on the view, then you pull out that line. Perhaps others would be stupid enough to fall for that."

"You're the first one I've brought up here."

"Really?"

"Really."

The witch stood up from the edge of the tower, and strode towards Aedan. Morrigan leaned her head against his shoulder, then snaked her arms around one of his, turning away to hide a small smile. "You didn't plan that 'beautiful view' line at all?"

"I'll admit, I have kept that one tucked away."

"I'm still a little skeptical I'm the first one you've brought up here."

"This is usually where I came to be alone. Sometimes my father would have noisy nobles over, or Oren was getting too annoying, or Mother was trying to get me to do something. I'd come here."

"Tis nice. Quiet."

The two stood awhile, watching the city below them in silence. After a bit, Aedan rustled about in his pocket. "I lied about why I went to see Wade, actually. I had an extra order." Aedan pulled out a ring, silver and gleaming. "I got you a gift. See how I managed to say that without stumbling over my words?"

Morrigan pinched Aedan's arm. "What are you implying?"

Aedan pointed to the rosewood ring on his finger. "I have something for you," he crooned in a falsetto, "Tis just practical, there is no further meaning behind it."

"Shut up." The witch pinched harder and Aedan simultaneously winched and laughed whilst he showed the ring to Morrigan.

"Sincerely hope you're not doing what's usually associated with that," said Morrigan.

"No," laughed Aedan, "Just a ring."

"Very well then." Morrigan held out her hand, and Aedan slipped the ring onto her finger. The witch took a moment to admire the piece upon her hand.

"Not a big believer in marriage, are you?" asked Aedan.

"No. The concept is contrary to itself. After you take that vow, you are bound to them. You are obligated to be with them. Even though you may have the choice to leave, the contract still binds you with guilt and obligation. So a vow taken out of 'love' becomes a contract fueled by something else entirely. Look at Alistair and Anora. They are getting married, yet the two hold no fondness for one another. They are bound by obligation to spend the rest of their lives together."

"It's not that you should be with them," mused Aedan, "It's not that you have to be with them. It's not that you need to be with them. You want to be with them."

"Yes," replied Morrigan. "Freedom does not necessarily mean moving around from place to place. Freedom is simply the presence of a choice. How you choose is up to you. The removal of that choice by any means, whether by guilt or contract, is the removal of freedom."

"Then how about this." Aedan got down on one knee. He placed her ring-clad hand in his, then looked up with a devilish grin.

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "I sense you're about to do something stupid."

Aedan planted a kiss on her hand. "You know me too well." He cleared his throat, and stifled a laugh. "Morrigan, do you promise never to take my hand in marriage?"

"The question every little girl grows up hoping to hear, no doubt."

"What can I say? I'm a romantic."

"Isn't it supposed to be more grand?" Morrigan held one hand over her mouth to hold back a snort. "Declarations of love and flowers strewn about everywhere?"

"That's for a marriage proposal, and this is the opposite of that, so you're just going to have to settle for this. If anything, it should look worse." Aedan kicked up some dust on the floor. Morrigan coughed at the cloud and whacked Aedan on the side to stop.

Morrigan lifted her chin up, and then stood up straight. "State your terms."

"This sounds like a negotiation. Two nugs and bushel of strawberries then."

"Out with it. If you're going to make a joke, be prepared to follow through on it."

"Who said this was a joke?"

"Yes, how about I make a promise to not cook? Imagine how hard it will be not get complained at by you and the templar for not putting enough meat in the stew? Promising not to do something just sounds lazy."

"Well, what if you saw me, all hungry and lonesome by the campfire? What's to say you feel bad and make me a little something?"

"Out with it, come on."

Aedan grumbled something under his breath as Morrigan smirked. He paused, took a deep breath, and pondered in silence. "Alright. How about this? I...don't know how much more time we have together. Who knows, maybe the Archdemon will kill us both- but each day, when I wake up, I will be a man that makes that day worth living for you. That's all I can really do,.so you better do the same too. I'll make you choose me...and you'll make me choose you."

Morrigan's smile softened and her hands gripped his a little harder. Their eyes met, then a moment of silence, devoid of stifled laughter and snide remarks, passed over them. Morrigan stroked the side of Aedan's finger with his. Aedan rubbed his thumb over her palms.

She wondered if the warden truly had a notion of how much time they had left together, or whether his words were simply that. For a man who planned and strategized so much, Morrigan doubted the man before her had thought much beyond the Archdemon. The creature, and this Blight, had been Aedan's purpose for so long. In the end, it was a nicety. A passing distraction before the leap into the inevitable. And after that, they would be...free of one another.

Free. Had she ever been 'free'? All her life, she had been under her mother's thumb, fed her teachings, and isolated from the outside world. Even now, with her mother dead, she still carried out Flemeth's machinations. She did not fight this Blight because she wanted to, she did so because it accomplished plans long since set in motion. Of all the things she had done, had she ever made a choice? Or had she simply been so influenced by Flemeth that she believed that what she was doing was what she must?

A wistful smile drifted across her face. If there was one choice...if there was one thing in all the world she had chosen, not out of guilt, nor obligation-

"You," whispered Morrigan.

Aedan scrunched his brow. "Did you mean yes?"

Morrigan gripped Aedan's hand harder. "That's what I meant. Yes."

Aedan grinned, grasped Morrigan by the waist, and pulled her in for a kiss. Morrigan clenched her arms about the back of Aedan's neck. Her eyes fluttered shut and she leaned into the embrace. Their lips parted, but their foreheads still pressed against one another.

"Sun's setting."

"Yeah."

"Five more minutes?"

Morrigan leaned her head against his chest as Aedan held her in his arms.

"Five more minutes."


	66. Fo(u)r

_Morrigan stoked the fireplace whilst the stew boiled. When last she had seen her mother, the sun had faded to a pale orange and dipped below the horizon. Without a word, Flemeth had shapeshifted into a large raven and flew off to parts unknown. If Morrigan closed her eyes and concentrated, she could hear the clashing of steel, the desperate screams, and the roar of darkspawn. Ostagar took a day's travel by foot, yet the sound still carried._

_The door burst open behind Morrigan. The younger witch sighed with her eyes planted straight forward into the stew before her. "There you are, did you bring something to put in the stew for-"_

_The sound of two large thuds onto the beds behind her, followed by a brilliant flash of light, made Morrigan turn back around. Flemeth hoisted a blood-covered man onto her own bed, whilst another lay bleeding on Morrigan's. His blood dripped down onto her sheets and pooled beneath him._

_"-dinner." Morrigan looked back at the stew, then gave it a little stir._

_"Do you have eyes, girl?" snapped Flemeth, "Heal the one on the right."_

_Morrigan snapped her fingers, and the fire beneath the strew shrunk. The stew's boil died down to a simmer. Morrigan scowled at the man on her bed. His blood stains would never come out of her linens- she'd have to toss them and find new ones, a task not so easy in the swamps. She placed her finger along an arrow dug deep into his shoulder. She whispered an incantation beneath her lips. The arrow dissolved into dust. She pressed her hands with a cloth against the open wound to quell the bleeding. She glanced over his body, covered in sword wounds and arrow holes, and then back at the body that Flemeth tended to. "This one's injuries are more severe. Did you not think you could handle it, or were you simply being lazy?"_

_Flemeth threw her head back and laughed. The man beneath her glowing green hands rustled. "If you think me either incapable, or inactive, then I truly have raised a fool of a daughter. Or perhaps do you not think yourself capable enough to deal with some simple wounds?"_

_Morrigan scoffed at her mother and continued her treatment on the man below. She wiped aside the blood covering his face, finally catching a glimpse of the man's features. "These Grey Wardens again," she muttered, "I guess their battle against the darkspawn did not go as planned?"_

_"About right now I expect the darkspawn to be feeding on the rest of the Wardens' entrails. Their general, Loghain, abandoned them on the battlefield, along with the king."_

_The two swamp witches hovered above their patients till their breathing steadied. "He is stable," said Morrigan, as she pressed her finger up against the man's neck. His heartbeat pulsed weakly back. She brushed aside his dark hair, then pressed her hand to his forehead. "Cold though. Lots of blood loss. It may take some time for him to recover…. They are the only ones remaining? You could not have swooped in and saved their king as well? Or at least some spare Wardens?"_

_"No need. The blood of Calenhad lives on. Hopefully not in a idiot, but that remains to be seen." Flemeth bandaged up the wound on the man beneath her, and set his arm in a sling. Morrigan glanced back, and swore she saw her mother smile. "Besides, our hut is already at capacity! We only have two spare bed rolls, unless you would rather I go rescue another person, and you sleep on the floor?"_

_"Do you think two will be enough?"_

_"Don't underestimate the wrath of men and women betrayed, my dear," cackled Flemeth._

_Morrigan wondered how much of this her mother had anticipated. How coincidental that the day Flemeth had sent her out on a gathering run, that two Grey Wardens be searching in the Wilds for a cache. How coincidental that those same Wardens, who now had possession of the contracts from the cache, now lay in their beds. No doubt having twice been saved by Flemeth, they would be inclined to listen to her, and perhaps Morrigan as well._

_Had Flemeth also known what the outcome of the battle would be? To accomplish their goals, they needed to ask of the Grey Wardens something, but surely the organization itself would be against them, filled with senior members who had spent their whole lives preparing to kill the Old Gods. However, if Morrigan made her proposal to just one Warden, indebted to her and her mother, still young and perhaps unprejudiced against their methods, and cut off from the rest of the objecting organization, then the likelihood they'd accept was almost certain._

_In one fell swoop, this Loghain fellow had cleared the chessboard. No doubt the man benefitted somehow from it, but he couldn't fathom that in that chaos Flemeth thrived, and her own chess pieces had been set into motion._

_Morrigan looked once over at man in her own bed, then back over at the man in Flemeth's. The two had stabilized and survived. Ferelden still had it's Wardens, and it's Wardens still had their contracts. The only question now was-_

_"Which one are you thinking of?" crooned Flemeth as she stirred the stew above the fireplace._

_"Mother, not now."_

_"Is it so wrong to tease my only daughter? Although, best decide sooner, rather than later. I doubt someone such as yourself will be gracious enough to gain their trust in any short amount of time."_

_Morrigan scratched at her wrist and looked aside to the floor. "There is no other way?"_

_The older witch looked at her daughter with a frown."No," stated Flemeth, her voice heavy and throaty. "This is your duty."_

_Her chest twinged, but Morrigan took a deep breath and suppressed the unease. Morrigan sighed, then looked back and forth between the two Wardens once again. "There really isn't a choice anyways. One of them is a former templar, from what I could tell. Rattling off about apostates and swamp witches. I doubt I could even get close enough to throw a rock at him." Morrigan stood above the man currently laying in her own bed. "This one was...diplomatic. Willing to negotiate. At the very least, he will see reason to save his own life." Morrigan sat on the chair next to the bed of her chosen target and hovered over his face. "Aedan. That was his name." She leaned in closer, watching the rise and fall of Aedan's haggard breaths._

_Flemeth eyed her daughter, and from behind her placed her hand on her shoulder. She tugged Morrigan back an inch. Her sharp fingernails pressed into Morrigan's skin. The younger witch held back a wince._

_"I did say get close, Morrigan, but not too close. He is but a means to an end. Do keep that in mind. I do hope your innocent little heart can handle that."_

_Morrigan shot a her mother a frigid stare, threw her hand off her shoulder, then dabbed at the blood on Aedan's forehead. The man shivered in her bed. She glanced at her blanket, then at her blood stained sheets. She moved her blankets away, lest they got covered in the man's blood._

_"I'm no fool, mother."_

* * *

"I have an idea."

Morrigan lounged on the bed, leaned her face on her hand, and groaned at the man standing in front of her. "Looks like we're off to a bad start to the evening already."

Aedan clapped his hands together. "What if we help Oghren-"

"No."

"Pick up a woman-"

"No."

"At the tavern nearby."

"No." Morrigan scowled. "In what circumstance, what situation, would I ever, ever, agree to do any of those things, for anybody?"

"It's not like we're just rolling dice here. He knows the girl, and they used to be together. I also promised him I'd do it if we ever stopped by the Lake Calenhad area again."

"Why would you be stupid enough to promise the dwarf anything?"

"I had a lot to drink at that point, alright?"

"Just say you don't remember."

"A man keeps his promises. Come on, it'll be fun."

Morrigan crossed her arms and leaned back on the bed."Could be one of our last nights together, and you're choosing to spend it with a drunken, slobbering dwarf."

"It'll just be an hour, besides that's why I asked you to come along."

"Not going. If it'll just be an hour, go without me. I can live without you for an hour." Morrigan opened up one of her grimoires, which she had covered in a protective cloth. Her face focused in on the pages, whilst out of the corner of her eyes she still noticed Aedan putting on his coat.

"Alright, see you in a bit then," he said. He paused in the doorway, crooking his neck over to peek at Morrigan's expression. The witch thumbed to the next page in her book without looking up.

"How about a smile before I leave?"

Morrigan flipped another page, her eyes still buried in her book.

"Or even a frown."

She snapped her fingers, and the door slam shut in Aedan's face.

Morrigan glanced beneath the cover of the grimoire. The carved visage of the dead tree still lay beneath. As Morrigan thumbed through Flemeth's grimoire. Her eyes glanced over the specifics of a spell described. "A sustained column of fire." Small scribbles of experimentation lined the margins, each written in different inks of varying age, each one detailing small improvements upon the spell. She peered out the window. Unfortunately, the density of campers meant that she lacked suitable safe area for her to practice her larger spells nearby. Everywhere she looked, camps had been setup by the troops. According to Eamon, Aedan and his friends had the "privilege" of staying at the inn, though she questioned whether the sheets had been washed since they had first been sewn.

She leaned over on her elbows. She stewed for a while, a pout on her lips. Truth be told, she had deciphered the majority of her mother's grimoire already. Anything else would take years to figure out the correct cipher for.

Why should she have to go into a tavern unless it was absolutely necessary? It smelled of cheap alcohol and dirty men, and she could barely hear her own thoughts over the clamoring of people. Ever since the first time she stepped in one, she only tolerated it in animal form, lest people attempt to interact with her.

The witch rubbed her face over and over and grumbled beneath her breath. What did it matter anyways? After the battle with the Archdemon, she would not see him again anyways. An hour, compared to a lifetime, seemed like nothing at all.

She flipped through the pages once again. Perhaps there was something she had missed, a scribble of Flemeth's that would be crucial. Amidst her flipping, her hands paused over the eighty-third page. The chill ran down her spine like that day almost half a year ago. She slammed the book shut and wrapped it back in it's bag.

From below she could hear the muffled laughter of Aedan and Alistair downstairs. Had the man not left yet? As she lay down on the bed, their voices still echoed through the fabric of her pillow. Morrigan stared up at the ceiling. Her foot tapped against the bed over and over. She rolled over and buried her face in her pillow. Their voices still carried from below.

Morrigan stood back up and paced the room. She caught a glimpse of Aedan outside the window, walking towards the tavern with Alistair. Aedan handed Alistair something in a sack, and the two gave each other a thumbs up. She crossed her arms. She could smell a scheme a mile away. Oghren, now Alistair? What was Aedan up to? Morrigan, of course, knew the answer to be nothing good.

As if by some sixth sense, Aedan looked straight up at the window where Morrigan was. He gave Morrigan a wink and a smile. With one last nod of his head, he turned around and headed off towards the tavern.

Morrigan narrowed her eyes. Her hand gripped the edge of the window a little tighter. Her lips curled into a snarl.

* * *

Morrigan, in dog form, bounded over on all fours towards the tavern, tail wagging. She rushed in between the legs of one patron as he opened the bar door. She flinched as the sound of clinking glasses, slurring yells, and incessant chatter filled her canine ears. Another dog bounded over and barked at her. Morrigan growled back, hair bristling. As quickly as he had come, the other dog more dogs occupied the corner by the tables.

"Who the hell let all these dogs in?" shouted the bartender.

"Hey, you leave them alone," slurred one man, "they ain't doing nobody-" The drunkard held up a finger, hiccuped, took a swig from his glass, and continued, "Ain't doing nobody no harm. They be good for morale. All the soldiers could use some more of the furry bastards."

"To the mabari!" screamed the man, raising his glass into the air.

If it had been any other nation, the bar would have remained quiet, but Morrigan covered her ears with her paws as every patron in the bar raised a glass and screamed back in reply, "To the mabari!"

Whilst everyone downed their drink, Morrigan darted between the legs of nearby patrons towards Oghren and Aedan. Aedan leaned comfortably on the bar counter, while Oghren was forced to sit on a stool to be above the counter. She sneaked in underneath the two by their feet. Morrigan gagged at the scent of Oghren boots, caked in mud. Though, as she turned to Aedan's feet, the alternative had no advantages. She'd have thought the man's time as a noble, and his recent reconnection with his past, would have instilled a greater sense of hygiene in him.

Oghren fidgeted in his seat. The wood creaked beneath his weight. "Stupid humans and your stupid high counter bars."

"How do you think I felt in Orzammar, having to squat down to sit anywhere. I'm not even the tallest guy I know. Poor Sten." Aedan waved over at the bartender. "Just water for me."

"Who goes to a bar and orders water?"

"You want me to help you or not?"

"I'd like you to have a beer with me at least."

Aedan scratched the back of his neck. "Maybe another time."

Oghren slammed down several coins onto the counter. "Bartender, two ales!"

"I told you, I'm fine with water for tonight."

"They're for me." Oghren grabbed a tankard in each hand. "This is called my warm-up." He leaned his head back and tilted both glasses into his mouth simultaneously. Aedan chuckled and shook his head. Mid-chug, Oghren's eyes widened and he spit out some of his beer onto Aedan."There she is! Serving that table over there."

Aedan wiped the ale from his face, then flung the liquid back at Oghren. "You want me to call her over, order something, see how it goes from there?"

"What you need to do is tread the waters for me. Figure out what Felsi thinks of me right now. Last time we left things on a very...angry note. Careful though. Tongue as sharp as a knife."

"A grumpy, angry woman. Don't know any of those."

Morrigan resisted the urge to bite off Aedan's ankle.

Aedan finished off his water, then strode off towards Felsi. Morrigan stared back up at Oghren. The dwarf grinned at the sight of his former lover, but turned away to face towards the bar. He stared down into the foamy ale in his glass. His smiled wavered, and the dwarf wrung his hands. He slapped himself several times on the face, then muttered something under his breath. He glanced back over at Aedan and Felsi. His fingers drummed the counter. Once Aedan returned, Oghren resumed his usual grin. "Well," asked the dwarf, giving Aedan a small punch in the gut, "Don't leave me hanging."

"Not going to lie, Oghren," said Aedan as he leaned back onto the bar, "Felsi's still pretty steamed."

"Ah, I figured. Better that's she's angry rather than forgot about me though. Hate and love, you know, very closely linked."

'Didn't peg you for the philosophical type."

"What are you blathering on about? Haven't you and the swamp witch ever had angry sex? It's great."

Aedan rolled his eyes, but gave a lopsided smile. "It's not terrible."

Perhaps she had been too hasty, Morrigan thought to herself, as she reconsidered biting off Aedan's ankle.

Aedan nudged Oghren in the side. "Here she comes."

"Shit. Do I have anything in my beard?"

"Just the usual bits of food."

"Good enough. Just be ready to pry her off of me when she throws herself at me."

Oghren leaned on the counter and whistled as the red-headed dwarf passed by. "Are you sure you're not a baker? Cause you've got a sodding nice set of buns."

The waitress stopped mid stride and cringed."Should've known by the stench you were in town, Oghren." Felsi rubbed her temples whilst shaking her head. She glared as another customer spilled more ale onto the floor, the droplets staining her already ragged apron. "I guess your buddy over here was testing the waters for you. What do you want? I'm busy serving people with actual responsibilities."

"Well you better take down my order, I'm one of those people." Oghren puffed out his chest and pointed to himself. "Darkspawn slayer, right here."

"You? Fighting darkspawn? The only thing I've seen you fight your way out of is a bucket full of nug ribs."

"First off, I finished first in that rib eating contest. That should at least earn me a modicum of respect."

"It doesn't."

"Second off, you know who my buddy is? The Warden."

She looked at him, a momentary hesitation in the pause of her voice. Her eyes glanced up, down, and then the scowl that Oghren's presence had elicited faded. "I've heard about you. Are you actually telling me that Oghren fights for you?"

Aedan grinned and patted his friend on the back. "He does. Does a pretty damn good job too."

"Aww, you'll make me blush, boss."

Felsi raised her eyebrow. "Well if there ever was something you were good at Oghren, it was killing things." She looked over at another table waving her over. Her eyes darted between the table and Oghren. She sighed and asked. "Why are you here, Oghren?"

The dwarf scratched his head. "Uhh…"

Aedan muttered something under his breath within earshot of Oghren. The dwarf cleared his throat, leaned back against the bar counter, and smiled. "Armies are heading out, and they need the best. Just a coincidence I bumped into you here. Then again, maybe it's destiny."

"Destiny, huh? Pretty crappy one if it involves bumping into you."

Aedan leaned in again. "Tell her you've been thinking about her."

Oghren slicked back his hair and grinned. "Been thinking about you, Felsi."

"What do you want, Oghren? I'm busy here."

"Nothing. Just wanted to check in, see how you were doing." Oghren snickered and gave her a wink. "Well, maybe that and grease up the ol bronto, if you know what I mean."

Aedan palmed his face in his hand and shook his head.

Felsi groaned. "Better head back to Orzammar for that bronto."

Oghren stretched out his arms and motioned towards the door. "Well, duty calls, doesn't it, Warden?"

"Yeah, we've got the king and queen waiting on us. Just the life of a Warden, I guess."

As Aedan and Oghren turned their backs, Felsi stuttered, "Wait, you're not even going to stick around? I haven't even called you a dirty nugs ass yet."

"Can't keep the Archdemon waiting." Oghren shrugged, then took another step towards the door ."Thing'll get bored and turn back around, and nobody wants that."

Felsi pointed over at the bar and smiled. "You could stick around, have a pint, at least. You can call me a surly bronto, and I'll rightly tell you you smell like nug droppings."

Oghren pretended to ponder the decision in his head while looking over at the door. "How about this, Felsi. After my pal and I kill the Archdemon, I'll head back over here for a beer. You frigid deepstalker." He flashed her a toothy grin.

Felsi smiled, rolled her eyes, and gave Oghren a playful kick in the leg. "Fine, but you better not keep me waiting, you worthless copper-plated sword-caste."

Oghren headed towards the door, but patted Aedan once on the shoulder as he left. "Thanks."

"That's it?" asked Aedan."Not going to have that pint?"

"Nah. Gotta make them chase you. Play a little hard to get. Besides, sort of nice to have something to look forward to after this Blight is over."

Aedan turned back to his water and stared down at the bottom. "Right."

"Gotta make my exit. I can't just linger around after telling her I gotta go." Oghren saluted Aedan. Aedan saluted him back. "Then fare thee well, fellow darkspawn slayer.'

As the door shut behind Oghren, Aedan downed the rest of his water. Morrigan watched as Aedan leaned forward in his seat, rummaging around in his back pocket for payment. As he put his coins on the counter, a female voice from behind him cooed, "Warden, huh? Heard you've done a lot this past year."

A female soldier clad in leather armor took the seat next to Aedan. One leg crossed over the other, though both knees pointed towards Aedan's figure. She brushed aside a lock of short blond hair and leaned in closer to him. "Refill on your drink?"

"Was actually just heading out for the night."

"Well we can't have that, now can we? One of our last nights before heading off against the darkspawn. Why not cut loose?" The woman's feet brushed against Aedan's leg. Her face leaned in closer to his.

Yes, she definitely had been too hasty, thought Morrigan as she bared her teeth. Aedan was capable enough a man that he could kill the Archdemon while missing a foot.

Aedan smiled back at the woman, and gave her a small pat on the back. "Sorry, got a prior appointment. Speaking of which-" Aedan poked his head underneath the counter, then gave Morrigan a small wave. "Hey, Smoochi-gan." Morrigan yelped as Aedan picked her up by the belly. The two struggled whilst Aedan carried her out of the bar.

The two stood outside the bar for several minutes whilst Aedan squeezed Morrigan's dog body tight to his chest to keep the flailing animal from leaving. "We could stand here, you pretending not to actually be you, for the rest of the night, or we could just have out with it."

Aedan's own mabari bounded over and barked repeatedly at the struggling Morrigan. If Morrigan didn't know any better, the mabari was laughing at her. She growled at Gregory to cease his own barking, but the other dog ran about Aedan and Morrigan in circles and continued his revelry.

Morrigan snapped at Aedan's hand, but Aedan waved his now gauntlet covered hand in front of her and smirked. She bared her fangs at him and growled, attempting to snap at his other hand. Finally, after much effort and struggle on Morrigan's part, she whined beneath her breath and slumped down in exhaustion. The light flashed in directly in Aedan eye's. Morrigan's back pressed against his.

"Stop making that face of yours," she groused.

"Oh come on. You're looking in the opposite direction, how do you know I'm even making that face?"

"So you're not?"

Morrigan waited for Aedan's response. The man stifled a laugh. Morrigan elbowed him in the side. He turned around, wrapping his arms around her. "Should have just come with me in the first place." Morrigan crossed her arms and continued to fume.

Alistair waltzed out the bar, arms outstretched. Aedan grinned and held out an open palm. "Damn it, it was her," said Alistair. The warden shook his head, then fumbled about in his pockets. Coins jingled within. Alistair handed a sack full of coins to Aedan."Worth it."

"Oh how fun." Morrigan kicked Aedan in the leg and glared over at Alistair, "Placing bets on whether or not I'd come?"

"No, it was for whether Aedan could pick out the right dog. I even unloaded a couple of red herrings into the tavern tonight." Alistair held his hand to his mouth and smirked. "Whether or not you'd come wasn't even a question."

Morrigan attempted to claw at Alistair with her hands, but Aedan wrapped his arms tight around her whilst chuckling. "I even gave him Gregory's mabari treats to do it." He winced as one of her fingernails dug into his arm. "This was easier when you were a mabari."

Gregory whined from beneath Aedan. Once Morrigan had calmed down, Aedan squatted down and rubbed the mabari between the ears. "Don't worry boy, you can have some some of my jerky later." The mabari bounded up and down with his tail wagging.

"He doesn't even let me eat that, be grateful," grumbled Alistair under his breath.

"So that was you two who got all those dogs into the tavern?" asked Zevran as he stumbled out of the bar. "I was wondering how it could be possible could get Ferelden to smell more like wet dog. True Fereldens to the core, you lot."

Aedan and Alistair silently high-fived. Morrigan crossed her arms and sneered. Zevran saluted the three as he left. The three became two as Alistair waved the couple off and headed back towards the inn, with Gregory in tow.

"Well, we have the rest of the evening ahead of us."

"Another prank in store?"

"I made you a promise didn't I, not too many days ago? That I'd make your days worth living? Definitely not going to end the day on a prank. That'd be rude."

Morrigan recalled the tower top back in Denerim. Each day, when I wake up, I will be a man that makes that day worth living for you, he had said. Morrigan suppressed a smile."Thought you were joking about that."

"You did say yes."

"As a joke."

"I never joke about a promise, whether it be about helping Thedas' drunkest dwarf to pick up a woman, or helping it's grouchiest witch have a nice day."

"What do you have planned then?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"What a coincidence. Sometimes I think that's the same thing that's between your ears."

"Figured I'd just make it up as I go along. Worked for me so far." Aedan sighed and gazed out at the lake, illuminated by the pale moonlight. "We are at Lake Calenhad. Biggest lake in Ferelden," he pondered, "Could go for a swim."

"I doubt the merits of a lake named after an ancestor of Alistair," said Morrigan. "But I wouldn't be opposed to a quick dip in the river."

* * *

Morrigan wrung the water out of her hair. The water dripped down her neck and soaked into her damp robes. She scowled as Aedan shook his head dry, wincing as the droplets splashed on her. "Sometimes I really do doubt whether or not you're half mabari."

Aedan pulled out a log from inside the forest, while Morrigan collected kindling for the fire. Morrigan snapped her fingers, and a flame erupted from the pile. Both held their hands near the fire. Aedan dragged the log by the fire, then sat down and leaned up against it. Morrigan waved her fingers, pulling Aedan's knees apart by magic. Morrigan sat down between his legs.

"Who said you could sit here?" said Aedan, who gave Morrigan a slight nudge out of his chest.

Morrigan wrapped her arms behind her about Aedan's neck, and wrenched herself back into his lap. "Whose idea was it go swimming in the cold night? Or perhaps this was your intention after all- I never can tell how far ahead you are planning." Morrigan shivered beneath Aedan's embrace. Aedan grabbed the blanket from nearby and wrapped it about the two of them. The hazy heat of the fire and the blanket soon enveloped them.

"I miss a good campfire." Aedan shivered a bit as the breeze blew over him. "Don't get me wrong, wool blankets are pretty cozy, but nothing beats a campfire. We haven't camped in quite some time."

"I'm not so sure that a noble boy such as yourself can come back to the great outdoors, after having experienced the luxuries of your old house."

The two huddled together in silence. The leaves tossed about. The water from the lake splashed against the shore. The fire crackled and danced before them. Morrigan sunk deeper into Aedan's embrace.

"I am surprised at the dwarf's restraint," she yawned.

"I'm not." Aedan smiled and stared into the fire, "Oghren's got a lot more depth than people give him credit for."

"I did half-expect him to take the same approach to battle as he does women- to rush in headfirst and make a mess of it all." Morrigan tilted her head to the side, then shot a glare at Aedan. "Were you pulling the same thing when you refused to sleep with me until all the way after Redcliffe? Pretending to not want me to try to get me to chase you?"

"I was trying to be a professional."

"You have to get paid to be a professional, not just scrounging around in the pockets of corpses for coin."

"I do regret it though." Aedan leaned forward and buried his face in the top of Morrigan's head. The soft exhale of his breath flowed down her hair. "Could have started all this earlier."

"For all you know, I'd just get fed up with you sooner. I barely tolerate you now as is." Morrigan smiled, placed her hand on the back of Aedan's neck, then stroked it with her fingers. Her smile dissipated as she looked up at the moon and night sky. "I wonder how many more nights we have before the fighting begins in earnest."

"We'll hit Redcliffe tomorrow. Probably spend a week there strategizing with the army. Take a couple of days to travel to our next destination. Don't worry. We still have tomorrow at least, don't we?"

"Yes, of course. Still have…" Morrigan covered her mouth as she yawned again.

"You falling asleep on me here?"

"Fire's warm. You're warm."

"We still do have to go back to the inn. Nobody else around to pull guard duty here."

Morrigan mumbled something under her breath and waved her fingers in the air. A mark appeared on Aedan's neck, followed by similar marks appearing in a wide radius around the campsite.

"If something living enters the campsite, you'll be shocked awake." Morrigan untied her bun and let her black hair unfurl down to her shoulders.

"Wait a second, what if something like a nug wanders in?"

"You'll be shocked awake."

"Or a spider?"

"You'll be shocked awake."

"I'm not sure how comfortable I am with this...also, how long have you been able to do this? I've pulled a lot of guard duty in the past year or so, and this would've been helpful."

"Good night." Morrigan pushed Aedan down onto the bedroll, then lay on his arm as a pillow.

"Oi. Hey. Answer the question," growled Aedan, pinching Morrigan's cheek. Morrigan placed her arms around Aedan, and sent a electric shock down Aedan's neck. Aedan twitched as the current jolted through him.

Morrigan pecked his neck with her lips. "Good night."

"See you tomorrow," grumbled Aedan. Morrigan leaned her head against his chest and dozed off, wrapped about him like a blanket.

* * *

"Who the hell straps armor on an ogre?" Leliana cursed beneath her breath as another arrow bounced off the makeshift armor lining the ogre's head.

Aedan took a deep breath as he let the tainted ability in his blood surge through his veins. The nearby hurlocks twisted their heads towards Aedan, hissing and roaring. Their pupils dilated. They rushed at him just as he lept off the ground. One managed to graze at the straps of his gauntlet, which clattered to the ground. Oghren, Sten, and Alistair mobbed the incoming hurlocks as Aedan collided with the ogre. Blood spurted from the ogre's neck as Aedan's sword sliced it's neck.. The momentum sent the ogre tumbling down to the ground, as Aedan drove his sword again and again into the creature's forehead. It's limbs shuddered, then fell to the ground. A hurlock lunged at Aedan, but he grabbed it by it's neck and stabbed his sword into it's chest.

Oghren kicked at one of the dead hurlocks on the ground ."Those blighters went berserk at the end there. Nasty little buggers, aren't they?"

Aedan flexed his gauntlet-less hand. "Implying darkspawn aren't always trying to kill us," remarked Aedan as he stared down at the body of one half-dead hurlock, still clawing it's way across the ground towards him. The darkened veins on Aedan's wrist faded as he mentally eased his body off of his ability. The hurlock arm stopped mid-motion, and went limp. Aedan trudged over to the hurlock, then slammed his boot into it's skull.

"I don't sense anymore of them in the vicinity, how about you, Alistair?" Aedan surveyed around the surrounding area outside the gates of Redcliffe. Most of the villagers had been evacuated into the safety of the Chantry, as well as the safehouses the villagers had prepared since the undead attack. Much of the homes still stood strong despite the darkspawn ambush upon. If any good had come out of the undead attack, Redcliffe's preparations for the Blight would be it.

Alistair closed his eyes and concentrated. His head twitched north, south, east, west, then finally he opened his eyes. "Nothing here. I think we're clear for now."

Aedan wiped his forehead of sweat and blood."We're clear, people!" he shouted to the Redcliffe soldiers.

"Just for once, I'd like to meet a darkspawn that sits down and tries to talk things out with you." mused Alistair. "We could have a nice dinner, maybe watch a nice play, and talk about it afterwards."

Aedan sheathed his sword back into his scabbard. "Somehow I think that'd be worse."

A battalion of guardsmen arrived by horseback, with Arl Teagan leading them. The men dismounted, then saluted Aedan and the others. Aedan pointed at over the watchtowers upon the castle walls. "We need someone manning the watchtowers. Darkspawn may be gone for now, but that doesn't mean they won't come back. We need a secure staging ground to plan our next attack."

Arl Teagan approached and met Aedan with a handshake. "Aedan, glad you're here. It's good to see you again in Redcliffe, though I wish the circumstances were better."

"I wish the circumstances were better everywhere, Teagan." Aedan looked past the castle gates over at the destruction of much of the village. He motioned for Teagan to walk with him. The two made their way to the main doors. "Did Wade come by with my armor and shield?"

"Yes, he arrived just the other day, along with Bodhan Fedic and his son."

"Artists, my ass. Damn blacksmith needs to learn to meet a deadline. Almost lost an arm out there with the crap I'm wearing now."

Aedan and the others piled into the main hall, now serving as the strategy room. A human squadron in one corner sharpened their swords. Dalish warriors conversed with their keepers in another. The dwarfs lounged on the benches in their heavy armor and grunted as Aedan passed by.

All the leaders he had gathered now stood by the war table: Eamon, Anora, Lanaya, Kardol, Irving, and Gregoir. Aedan reached over and greeted each one with a handshake.

"Thank you, all of you, for gathering here. It hasn't been an easy road to get here, but we need to stand as an united front to have a chance against the darkspawn horde." Aedan leaned over the table and peered at the map. "What the status of our troops?"

Irving started, pointing to the figurines representing the mages, now placed in Redcliffe. "The mages have gathered here in Redcliffe. The templars are providing support in the the Calenhad region for villages being besieged by the darkspawn, though a few have accompanied us to help protect the mages."

"You are our charges," replied Knight-Commander Gregoir, "and that means we must ensure you survive to make it back to the tower. After all, I'd be out of a job otherwise. Besides, reports have poured in about darkspawn mages being present on the battlefield. I cannot think of a purpose more suitable for our men than to stop those monsters."

"Lanaya?"

"The clans, though not all here, are awaiting in the forests, fully armed." Lanaya pointed out the various markers upon the map. "Once the order is given, our messenger birds will signal them to move out."

"Kardol?"

"Despite Bhelen being a right bastard at times, he delivers. One dwarven army, filled to the brim with noble caste, warrior caste, and casteless alike. And, as a personal favor, the Legion of the Dead is along for the ride. Can't think of any better way to die than killing the Archdemon."

"Anora? Finally got the Bannorns to stop arguing?"

"Now that issue of Ferelden's monarchy has been resolved, every Bannorn has pooled their efforts towards the war. Like the Dalish, they've stationed themselves throughout Ferelden for now at their respective Bannorns. Once the signal is given though, they will march."

"And they're going to have to." Eamon, fully-armored, strode in through the main door. The human guards stood at attention as he and his knights entered.

"Good to see you back on your feet, Eamon."

"May not be for long, given the news that's just come in." Eamon greeted each of the leaders with a hearty handshake, then gestured over at the map. "They no longer swarm about the south. Reports from all over Ferelden have poured in. They're marching, all of them, towards one location." Eamon moved the wooden figurines representing the darkspawn on the map directly onto Denerim. "We lose Denerim, then the entire war effort could be at peril. Supplies, ships, goods, the economy, everything routes through there. We've already lost much of our farmland. We lose Denerim, we won't be able to even feed our armies, let alone fight off the darkspawn."

"They're striking at Denerim? That's too far north, almost as if they made a beeline straight towards there. They've usually made sure to blight an entire area before moving on. Even for a Blight, this is too organized for the darkspawn," Kardol remarked.

"It's not just them." Eamon grew quiet. His eyes closed and his voice wavered. "The Archdemon heads their approach."

Aedan heart stopped. His breath left him. "They're sure?" A glimmer of sweat formed at the edge of his forehead. "The archdemon has appeared?"

"Multiple independent sightings by separate scouting parties during the last few hours, indicating a flight path towards Denerim. The last sighting already had identified it circling about the city."

Aedan leaned over the table, looking down upon the map of Ferelden. He looked down upon the countless crossed out villages, upon the region's of land filled in with black. Fertile farmland now blighted into oblivion. Innocent men and women slaughtered for no reason other than the madness of the horde. His hand trembled and ached for his blade.

This was the brink. The final leap. If they didn't make their stand here, then all would be lost.

The final battle. His final battle.

_It'll finally be-_

Aedan glanced once back at Morrigan. His hand gripped the side of the table. His chest tightened.

_-over._

He turned back to the leaders gathered in front of him. He placed his hand on his sword hilt, then spoke.

"Tell the armies to mobilize. It's time to end this."


	67. Three

"Got something for you, Sten."

Sten sat on a stool, rubbing a grindstone against his blade. "What is it, Warden?"

Aedan waved over the soldiers behind him. It took two men to lift the long, cloth-wrapped package. Their arms shook beneath the strain.

"Looks like we're facing the Archdemon soon. Figured you needed a good weapon."

"What I have now is suitable, thank you." Sten held a great sword they had looted from the Deep Roads. Forged by the ancient dwarves themselves with the finest steel. Other soldiers would drool over the sword, yet Sten glanced over it with an unchanging stare.

"You'll like this, Sten." He gestured the men to hold the package in front of Sten. "Trust me."

Sten opened his mouth to protest, but his eye caught the outline of the package. He paused. His hands hovered over the cloth. The two soldiers heaved a sigh of relief as Sten lifted it from their hands. Sten hesitated, then looked at Aedan, who nodded back at him. Sten undid the twine that bound the package together. The cloth unfurled and crumpled to the ground. Scratches and dents lined the forged steel of a massive sword. Patches of dried blood covered the blade.

"They said they would have preferred they cleaned it before they gave it to you, but I'm guessing you're particular on how you care for your weapon."

Sten inspected every cranny of the blade. "How did you even find it?"

"Well, asked a fence in Calenhad a couple of days ago, who referred me to a merchant in the Frostbacks. Had one soldier stationed near there question the man, and some mercenary in Redcliffe had it. After some coin and veiled threats, and here we are."

Sten palmed the hilt finger by finger. Each fell into matching indent in the hilt. "I had forgotten what this. Completion." He hoisted it up with the single hand and held it up to the light. He clicked his tongue at the dirtied, scuffed blade. "Vashedan- I'll need the entire night to ready you." Sten continued to hold the sword up to the dim light. He set the sword down against the stool and shook Aedan's hand. "Words cannot describe my gratitude, but I will say this. In the upcoming battle, let us both fulfill our purposes. I will be glad to stand to beside you, kadan." The edge of his lips curved upwards.

Aedan nodded back. He, like Sten, had a purpose. A job. A reason to exist. Anything beyond that was unnecessary.

Soldiers shuffled back into the barracks, but slight murmurs still echoed about the halls. Aedan bid Sten farewell, then made his way down the staircase into the basement armory, where Wade hammered away at Aedan's armor. Heeren stood off the the side, taking inventory of the armory.

"Wade, how's the armor looking?" he said, "Thought you finished it already."

Wade removed his smithing visor and gestured at the flawless armor in front of him with outstretched arms, but a distraught grimace. "When you rush art, you get a disaster, that's what!"

Aedan peered over the chest piece. "It looks fine. Better than fine, perfect."

"Perfect? Perfect!?" Wade held his hand to his forehead and slouched forward. "Maker, a man of such poor taste will be wearing my work."

"I don't-"

"Look at the chain mail in the lower left abdomen, can't you see the sloppy metal work there connecting the chain-mail to the main pieces, what if something were to pierce-"

"Wade, other soldiers are going out in leather armor and generic knight's pieces. I'm sure I'll be fine."

"See, Heeren, this is what I'm talking about. At least the Orlesians have the decency to dress up their soldiers with style and quality goods, instead of brutes like this-" Wade threw his arms in the air, scowling at Aedan., "shrugging 'good enough'. What would you have me do?"

"Well, it's either this, or I go out in the armor I came into your shop in."

Wade gasped. His hammer thudded onto the floor. Heeren jumped backwards.

"I will do what I can for the armor tonight. Please, for the love of all that is holy and right, do not lead the armies of Ferelden in that corpse-scavanged garbage."

"For once I agree with Wade," said Heeren.

" _For once_? Oh, you're always like this!"

"Well, someone has to keep you in check-"

"See you guys in the morning," laughed Aedan as he inched his way towards the door. He shut the door behind him, though he could still hear the muffled shouting.

Aedan peered down the hallway, but found it empty. He took a left to another. There, Riordan stood. He nodded at Aedan from across the hallway. Aedan strode over and peered into the room in front of them. Alistair leaned against the wall, humming to himself.

"I've had Alistair meet us here. We must tell him about the Archdemon."

"I guess it's time." Aedan glanced over at his friend. Hope still glimmered in the other warden's eyes. Aedan wondered what he himself had looked like to Avernus when the old mage had told him. He still remembered that day as he staggered into the basement, as his sense of taste left him and he drank himself into stupor. Yet despite his inebriation at that time, the words he had said to himself still rung in his ears.

_I'll finish this one last thing...then I'll come home to you all._

Aedan brow furrowed. He nodded once at Riordan. The two entered the room. "Geez, who died?" said Alistair as he glanced at the two. The templar chuckled, but still wrung his hands together. "Probably a lot of people...Blight and all...sorry, that's...inappropriate."

"Alistair," said Riordan, "I must tell you something regarding the Archdemon."

"Yes, I've been told how ugly it is, you don't need to brief me on that." Alistair snapped his fingers and smiled at Riordan with expectancy. When the other two reacted with silence, Alistair swallowed. "This isn't going to be good."

Riordan shook his head. "Alistair, do you know why a Grey Warden is needed to kill an Archdemon?"

"We can sense the darkspawn, and our combat ability and immunity to the taint allow us to get to the Archdemon."

"There is a reason only Grey Wardens have slain the Archdemons." Riordan gestured for Alistair to sit down, which the other warden did. Aedan took Alistair's place against the wall and crossed his arms. "When an Archdemon is slain," continued Riordan, "its soul travels to the nearest being with the taint within. This is usually a darkspawn. Since a darkspawn has no soul, the Archdemon can regenerate…and the blight continues on."

"So how do we kill it if it can regenerate?" asked Alistair

" _We_  kill it. When a Grey Warden slays the Archdemon in close combat, the nearest creature carrying the taint will be them. The souls collide and self-destruct. The Archdemon is slain forever, but the Grey Warden who slays the Archdemon also dies."

"I...Maker." Alistair leaned forward, stared down into the ground, and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Usually, the senior most Warden takes it upon himself to kill the Archdemon, but we may not have the luxury of choosing...so I ask you two to prepare yourselves." Riordan placed a hand on both Aedan and Alistair's shoulders. "Only three of us remain. The likelihood of me getting to the Archdemon, of any of us getting to the Archdemon, is slim. Do not hesitate if your time comes."

Alistair said nothing. He still stared into the ground. "Thank you, Riordan."

"I'll give you some time to process this." Riordan walked out the door. "I'll leave you two alone for this," he said in passing. Aedan glanced over at his friend, still mulling over the new revelation.

"Why did he only say Alistair?" Alistair asked after a long silence.

Aedan continued to lean on the wall. He gazed out the window. His finger drummed against his arm, again and again. "Avernus told me after we killed Flemeth."

The templar shot out of his chair. "So you've known for months, and you didn't tell me? I-" Alistair squeezed his eyes shut, and held his forehead. "Maker, that's what you wanted Loghain for."

"No. Even if he joined us, he would have always been the backup."

Alistair's mouth fell open. An eternity passed. Alistair continued to stare at his friend. Aedan continued to look away. "You were never planning letting anyone else take that blow, were you?" said Alistair.

Aedan returned his friend's gaze. "No."

"Was that your plan? To die? Without telling any of us?" Alistair's voice cracked.

"You all would have thought it was from my wounds," Aedan shrugged. "Wouldn't have been anything suspicious."

"That's not the problem, Aedan! I- me- I-" Alistair pointed to himself, then at Aedan. "I don't want you to die. None of us want you to die."

"And if I didn't take the blow, you would die." Aedan pushed himself off the wall to stare out the window. "And if neither of us took the blow, then everyone dies. What will happen is a necessity. Well-" Aedan turned back and gave Alistair a lopsided smile, "It might not even happen. Riordan could beat me to the punch."

"What about Morrigan? Did you even tell her?"

"...No. She'll be fine without me. She's strong."

"You've got to tell her. She has a right to know."

"She doesn't need to."

"But she'd want to."

Aedan gripped the windowside. Alistair grabbed Aedan by the shoulder and turned him back around from the windowsill. "Let me take the blow, if it comes to it," said Alistair. "Please."

"No. This is why my parents sacrificed their lives to let me escape, to end this Blight. This is why I'm alive."

"It's my duty too."

"You're the king. You're still needed. After this, the world doesn't need me." Aedan placed both hands on Alistair's shoulders and stared him straight in the eyes. "Promise me, that if the time comes...if it's down to me and you, you'll let me take that blow."

Alistair's expression twisted and his eyes glassed up. "Could I even stop you?"

Aedan shook his head. Alistair hesitated, then pulled Aedan in for a hug. "Whatever comes to pass, whatever lies ahead for either of us, I want you to remember this. I will always be proud to call you my brother."

Aedan patted Alistair on the back. "Me too, brother."

* * *

Should he tell her? Telling might be worse. She might conspire with Alistair to have him take the blow instead of Aedan. That would require a modicum of cooperation but Aedan suspected they might cooperate in such a manner.

The slaughter in Highever flashed in his mind. If he had known that was the last moments, what would he have changed? Would the incoming tragedy have overwhelmed him or would he have tried to squeeze in every last bit of happiness he could? Aedan imagined it in his head: one last dinner with his family, all of them around the same table, chatting, laughing, living.

Would it have made him happier, knowing that had been his last day with them? Would it have made him happier, not knowing that these might be his last with her?

She didn't need to know, but would she want to know?

Aedan ground his teeth and kicked at the carpet beneath his feet. He stood in front of the door of the bedroom assigned to him. No doubt she'd be in there. His hand hovered over the door knob. He took a deep breath in. If he just saw her...if he just held her...he'd know what he would have to do.

"There you are." Aedan moved to embrace her, but he stopped mid-step. Her posture seemed rigid and tense, and her face solemn. The fireplace crackled behind her as the sole source of light. Long shadows filled the room.

"What's the matter?"

"I know what happens when an Archdemon dies," said Morrigan without a moment's hesitation.

Aedan's heart slammed against his chest. The world had stopped- no, the two of them simply stood motionless.

_Does she know? How could she know? Maybe she's assuming- maybe's it's a mistake- maybe-_

A lump ached in his throat. Aedan swallowed, yet still it lingered and throbbed. "The Blight ends. Even common folk know this."

"And the Grey Warden who slays it dies." Morrigan raised her chin a little and narrowed her eyes. "I saw Riordan take you and Alistair aside. No doubt he informed you of your possible fate."

Aedan peered over her expression, yet he could see no tremble of emotion and hear no shaking of her voice. "You've known since the beginning."

"Yes. Since before we even met. You will attempt the blow to ensure Alistair lives on as the king. When you do so-" Morrigan paused. Her voice faltered. "You will die." Her hand grasped her thigh to steady itself as she sat down. "This does not have to be the case. There is a ritual...of old and forgotten magic."

"Why would I want to take this ritual?"

"You get to live." Aedan opened his mouth to speak, but Morrigan held up her hand. The bed creaked as her body shifted upon it. "I propose this: lay with me tonight. We shall conceive a child. It shall carry traces of the taint within it. When the Archdemon is slain, it shall be drawn to the child like a beacon. The child will absorb the Old God soul, housing it inside its body."

"You want to what?" Aedan blinked, rubbed his eyes, then blinked again. His mouth went dry. He took a second to pinch his cheek. He raised his eyebrows at Morrigan, who did not respond "Let's ignore the whole impregnation thing for right now," he said whilst scratching at his forehead, which had begun to pound, "but why would I ever want to let the Old God live? They cause Blights, endless death, and the destruction of civilization."

"Darkspawn cause Blights. The Old God shall be reborn, free from the cycle of Blights, free from the song that calls Darkspawn to it." Morrigan stared off into the distance, her tone quiet and low.

"And if I refuse?"

"I leave now...and you will perish if you take that blow."

"So if I refuse, you'd abandon this cause?" Aedan's voice raised. "Risk us failing to kill the Archdemon without your help?"

"I did not consider if you would refuse, considering that your life is on the line." Morrigan narrowed her eyes. "Why would you refuse? You are no fool, fearing unknown magic. You've supported apostates and freedom of mages, yet why would this bother you?"

Aedan rubbed his face over and over, his breathing quickening. His nostrils flared. "My job is to kill the Archdemon. I'm supposed to let you walk away with the soul of a being that can cause, and has already caused, thousands of deaths?"

"There are things in this world worth preserving. It is one of them." Morrigan's voice faltered. Her mouth moved and words left, but Aedan could not hear them. She spoke louder this time: "And you are another. Take the ritual."

"That twisted, blighted dragon haunts my dreams. I've seen this Old God. It  _cannot_ be worth preserving."

"The darkspawn blighted it. Any creature corrupted that much by the blight becomes a shadow of what it once was. I suggest that we preserve it in its uncorrupted state. Do you trust me?"

"I...Yes."

"Then I tell you this. The Grey Wardens are hunters. They do not understand the creatures they kill. They see a feral beast to kill, because they have no alternative. I however, and now you, know that the creature can be spared. Take the ritual."

"Do you know why my family saved me? Why Duncan saved me? Why Flemeth saved me? To kill the Archdemon! That's my job. That's why I'm alive."

"Flemeth did not save you just to kill the Archdemon. She saved you for this."

"So this is why you came- why Flemeth sent you with us."

"Yes."

Aedan's stomach churned. He looked at Morrigan and his vision blurred for a second. His mouth went dry. "Was that why…" Aedan looked down, swallowed, and clenched his fists. "Is this why you got close to me? Was everything we had all a lie?"

Morrigan's hands, palms down on her thighs, gripped her skirt. Her gaze lowered, and her bangs hung down and his her expression. "I got close to you and into your good favors for that purpose, yes. but everything else I did not need to do. The line blurred. "Coming to feel for you the way I do...was not part of the plan. I swear." Her voice trembled. "I swear. So please, take the ritual."

"I can't. This isn't how it's supposed to be."

"There is no way that things are supposed to be. Only choices and consequences. Do not let the Grey Wardens outdated rhetoric cloud your judgement."

"That not what I'm supposed to do." A bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. He patted down the side of his leg.. His flask, where the hell was his flask? Finding nothing, Aedan held his hand against the wall to steady himself. His vision blurred again. Sweat dripped down his palms.

"Then what are you supposed to do?"

His fist slammed against the wall. The room shook. Morrigan jumped in place. Aedan gazed down into the ground. His fist clenched, still shaking against the wall. "I'm supposed to die. That's how it's supposed to be. That's-" As his vision settled, he looked at the crack in the wall, and yanked his hand back to his side.

"Supposed to-" Morrigan held her breath. Her eyes widened. "How long have you known?"

Aedan sat down next to Morrigan, wringing his hands. "Couple months now. Since we killed Flemeth. Avernus told me." Aedan leaned forward and cradled his head in his took deep long breaths to clear his head, but his temples still throbbed.

"So you were always planning on taking that blow. Did you want-" Morrigan reached over towards his back but her hand stopped and hovered. "Do you still want to-"

"I don't know. There are just moments where…where..." Aedan slumped deeper into his hands. He tugged at his own hair. "I'm very tired, Morrigan."

Morrigan's hovering hand placed itself on Aedan's back. It lingered there whilst the two sat in silence. Her hand rubbed against his back. Aedan uncradled his head from his hands and looked back at Morrigan."And what happens if I perform this ritual?"

Morrigan held her hand to her chest to steady her breathing. She bit her lip. "After the archdemon is slain, I will prepare the child for their inevitable destiny, and hide them from the world until such a time." Her eyes clenched shut. Her fingers scraped against his back. "I shall leave, and you will never see me again."

Aedan gripped the side of the bed at Morrigan's words. No matter what, he would not see her again.

Why did it matter though? If he had died, he wouldn't have seen her again anyhow. Why should this change anything? He had his path. His job was to kill the Archdemon...and it was his way out. His way to escape the future ahead of him.

No matter what he did, she would be gone. It didn't matter if he refused. He would never see her again anyways. One path led to more hardship, the other led to peace. Wasn't it obvious which one he should take?

Say no.

The word lingered in his mouth, and his throat closed up. This was his duty. Every life in Thedas was at stake. The Old God's threatened every living soul in existence.

You should kill the Old God. You have to kill the Old God. You need to kill the Old God.

"I…"

This was how it should be. He would kill the Archdemon, and die himself. It was how every great tale ended. Thedas would have peace, and so would he. No more bloodshed, no more decisions, no more pain. Only peace.

You should die. You have to die. You need to die.

"I…"

He looked back at Morrigan. The side of her mouth quivered. His eyes caught a glimpse of a slight tremble of her hand. He reached over and gripped Morrigan's hand in his own. Aedan cleared his head of thoughts of Blights, war, and bloodshed. He cleared his mind of memories of betrayal, trauma, and death. His eyes closed shut, and Aedan listened only to his heartbeat as it slowed from a frantic pace to a slow lull.

Aedan gripped Morrigan's hand tighter. "Okay."

* * *

The witch lit candles about the room. The faint scent of cinnamon, lavender, and cocoa filled his lungs, along with other intoxicating scents unknown. Aedan's gaze followed the hazy smoke trail back to its source. A stick of incense smoldered in a jar, darkened room as Morrigan shut the blinds. Another stick of incense also lay lit in the far opposite side of the room.

"Incense?"

"It is necessary for the ritual. Shirt off."

"Wow, getting right to the good stuff already," laughed Aedan as he complied. He winced as Morrigan pricked one of his still-healing scars with a needle. "Not what I was-"

Morrigan placed a glass filled with a dark, chalky substance into Aedan's hands. "Drink this, quickly."

Aedan gagged as the mixture sludged it's way down his throat. "Maker, this tastes like dirt."

"It does contain soil."

Aedan picked at the bits stuck in his teeth and squinted at the small flecks in his hand. "You weren't kidding." Aedan opened his mouth to object, but Morrigan stuck another bottle straight into Aedan's mouth, and handed him a bucket.

"Gurgle, and do not swallow. Spit into here."

The familiar burn of alcohol hit his tongue. Aedan considered disregarding Morrigan's instructions whilst he gurgled, but spit into the container regardless.

"And what does that one do? Are my eyes going to glow now?"

"No. That one's so I don't have to taste dirt on your mouth."

"Ha. Funny." Aedan took another swig from the bottle, gurgled, and spat. Mint wafted up to his nose. "So, you mind giving me a rundown on what all this crap is supposed to do, so I don't knock over anything important?"

"Much of it is aligning the our bodies' natural systems to guarantee pregnancy. I have cast a spell on myself, aided by that incense over there, that should last for the next few hours. It forces my body into a state where it is almost guaranteed to become pregnant, provided the partner's seed is of normal potency."

"Mine isn't?"

"The darkspawn taint often renders Grey Wardens unable to have children. At such a stage of development the taint kills the child before it can even be conceived. In the rare case where the child survives, it is because it carries no taint at all, which would defeat the purpose of this ritual. The mixture you've taken, in addition to what I pricked you with in the needle, should protect your seed and increase its concentration, whilst ensuring that it carries the taint within it."

Aedan pointed at the incense farther out. "And what's that scent from the other one? Kind of strong. It's not bad...but just strong." Aedan walked over to sniff the stick of incense.

"I would not do that-"

As Aedan took a large whiff of the scent, his eyes widened. He cleared his throat into his fist. He waddled back towards the bed, sat back down on the bed, and leaned very far forward. His hand dabbed at his flushed face.

"Tis not meant to be sniffed directly." Morrigan glanced down towards Aedan's nethers.

"I can see that now," grunted Aedan. He took several sharp breaths. He slapped his cheeks with both hands. Finally, he found himself able to lean back. "Can I ask what  _that_ is for?"

Morrigan coughed into her hand. "I do not take chances."

"Who could have guessed it was so complicated to make a vessel for an immortal, all-powerful being?"

"Your job is the simple one, I don't see why you're complaining." Morrigan sat down next to Aedan.

"Ha...I guess not." Aedan's foot tapped up and down. He glanced over at Morrigan. His mouth opened to speak, but he stopped himself and bit his tongue. Morrigan tilted her head at him. Aedan's fist covered his mouth whilst he clenched his eyes. "Will this hurt the child?"

Morrigan hooked her arm in his. She leaned on her shoulder, a small smile forming at the edge of her lips. "Of course that's your question."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." Morrigan unhooked her arm. She sat up straight again. "Tis silly to think this could hurt him at this point in development. When he is born, he will be a normal child."

"He?"

"The archdemon we face is Urthemiel. The Old God of Beauty. He is male, and thus so will the child."

"Never thought about having kids. I'm still barely an adult now." Aedan laughed and scratched at his head. And now I'm having a son. Wow." Aedan placed his hand over Morrigan's. He gripped Morrigan's hand tight. "You could stay, you know."

"I cannot."

"We could get away from it all." Aedan's voice quivered. "Away from the Grey Wardens, away from Flemeth, away from everything. Just you, me, and our son- the three of us."

"You weren't even planning on living past the Archdemon."

"I know...but when I'm with you, I don't think about...I'm just...waking up each day. I'm living each day. I'm going to sleep so we can start the next. I could teach him to hold a sword. We could go on trips, see Thedas, or we could stay in, the three of us, have breakfast together. We could-"

Morrigan held her hand over Aedan's mouth. "Please stop." Her forehead slumped down against his arm. Her voice quivered. "Please."

Aedan guided her by the shoulder to face to him, then let his forehead fall against hers. "Why do you have to leave?"

Her forehead burned against his. She placed her hands upon his arms. "Because this feeling...is a distraction. A weakness. When you hold me, I'm content to simply be in your arms- but I have things I must do, things I must preserve, and I cannot do that...with these feelings weighing me down." Her hands lifted from his arms. "So I must let you go. I told you. One should only hold onto things that make them strong."

Aedan grasped her right hand. "Love is not a weakness."

"You and I do things others cannot. We do what must be done. You, fighting darkspawn, and I, my own path. My path coincided with yours for a time. Now it veers off to a place you cannot follow. For us to be together would veer us both from our paths. That is weakness."

Morrigan removed her forehead from his and wiped at her eyes. Her smile wavered. "Come, the night wanes." She leaned in to kiss him, but stopped mid-way. She stifled a sob in her throat. Morrigan clutched her hand over her chest. "I'm sorry, I just need a moment." The witch took several deep breaths, but her breathing only quickened instead of slowing. Aedan pulled her in for a kiss. His fingers twisted inside her hair. Her shoulders tensed, but then relaxed. Morrigan closed her eyes. Her soft lips pushed back against Aedan's.

As they reached a lull, Aedan withdrew. His hand still cupped her cheek. His thumb traced the outline of her lips. He wiped away a stray hair of hers that had gotten stuck in her mouth. "That better?"

Morrigan's hands clutched at his. "Flemeth told me I would feel nothing this night. That it would be over quick. A means to an end. Perhaps that would have been better. It's like-"

"Like your heart is being crushed." Aedan's chest ached with each word, yet he still smiled.. "Like the air is leaking from your lungs." He leaned in again to peck her lips.

"Then how can you smile like that? Knowing that I lied to you this whole time? Knowing that this is our last night? How can you say this pain is anything but a weakness? How-"

Aedan leaned in to kiss her again. The bed shifted as Morrigan scooched in closer. Aedan pulled away. Morrigan fell into his lap. Aedan hooked his arms beneath Morrigan's legs, then lifted her up and placed her on the bed. His hands reached for hers. As their fingers intertwined, he pulled her arms outwards, pinning her hands against the bed. He moved to press his lips up against hers, but stopped right before.

"I can make this quick as you want then. We don't even need to kiss or look at each other." He drooped down against her ear. "Is that what you want?" He brought his lips once again above hers, his eyes gazing straight into hers. Her warm breath blew through her half open mouth against him. They remained like that till Morrigan glanced away. Aedan's hands loosened from hers. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and sat back up. "Alright." His head hung down and his shoulders drooped. "Okay."

Her arms shot out, wrapped about his neck, and pulled him down onto her. Morrigan whispered something into Aedan's ear. Aedan's eyes widened. He exhaled a small laugh. Morrigan grumbled, then buried her face in his shoulder. Aedan lay kisses down Morrigan's neck, reaching underneath her to undo the ties of her clothing. He pulled her bra and robes off, throwing them to the side of the bed. Her hands fumbled for his trousers, tugging them downwards along with his underwear. Aedan removed both his and Morrigan's bottoms. One arm snaked about her waist. The other cradled her face. His fingers tugged apart her bun, and her black hair unfurled down to her shoulders. He brushed aside her bangs to reveal the golden eyes beneath. Her eyes welled up. Morrigan smiled. Her arms, still wrapped about him, tugged him closer till her entire body pressed up against him. Her racing heart pulsed against his chest. Aedan hovered above her lips once again.

"Your desire, then." He closed his eyes, then plunged in for the kiss.

* * *

The light trickled in through the glass windows. Aedan cracked one eye open. Morrigan's back brushed up against Aedan. Aedan slid his hand over her womb. He stroked the skin of her stomach with his thumb. For the first and last time, the three of them would be together.

Outside marching orders blared. Thousands of armored knights clinked and rattled in the distance. "Morrigan?" Aedan shook Morrigan by the shoulder. "Morrigan?" Her lips barely parted. The crumpled sheets still clung to her body, beads of sweat still lingering on her skin. Aedan shook her again, but the witch curled up against him further. "Soldiers are outside getting ready." Aedan clenched his fist. The bed shifted as he moved to get up.

"Five more minutes," whispered Morrigan. She put her hand over Aedan's fist. "Five more minutes." The witch's body shook. Aedan's fist relaxed. Her fingers slid in between the cracks of his, unravelling his fist. Her hand pressed his hand back against her stomach. Aedan's other hand cradled her head. He kissed the back of her head and lingered there. A tear slid down from her cheek onto his arm.

Aedan squeezed Morrigan close. "Five more minutes."


	68. Two

"Why is there so much fabric at the back?" Aedan kicked at the tabard's back. The blue fabric fluttered.

"You refused the cape." Wade grabbed at the tabard and straightened it back out.

"Because it's ridiculous. What if some darkspawn tugs on me from the back?"

Wade took a sharp inhale and narrowed his eyes at Aedan. "I lengthened the back of the tabard. There is majesty in flowing fabric, and I will not have you looking like a common soldier."

"But-"

Wade, devoid of any smirk or whine, faced Aedan. He furrowed his brow and spoke in a subdued pace. "They will look to you, Warden, amidst the crowds, amidst the blood and blades. Make yourself seen." He clasped the man by the shoulders. "This is all I can do," he whispered.

Aedan nodded, taking both the man's soot covered hands in his own and giving them a firm shake. "Thank you, Wade. I'll do my best." He stepped out of the tent. Countless Redcliffe soldiers rushed through the camp, all scrambling to prepare for the upcoming battle. Swords clattered and roll calls sounded off.

Leliana kneeled by the next tent, sharpening the edges of her arrows. She deposited the arrows in her overflowing quiver and waved Aedan over.

"Well, what do you think?" Aedan turned around in a full circle, the ends of his tabard drifting about him. The underlayer of chain-mail jingled. The steel plates strapped above it glistened from a fresh shine.

The bard gave a little clap of her hands. "I shall have to compose a ballad about the day the Warden stepped out in his shining armor and lead the armies of Ferelden to retake Denerim."

"Technically, a warden has done this four times before. You'll need to spice it up."

"True. We'll need to give you a different name, at the very least."

"How about just Aedan?"

Leliana pressed her finger against the side of her lip whilst she pondered. She snapped her fingers. "What about the Hero of Ferelden?"

Aedan stuck his tongue and gagged. "Too gaudy for my taste. Besides, we haven't entered the battle yet. We don't know if we'll win. I'd put off composing that ballad if I were you."

"Too late. Already figured out how to rhyme 'Hero of Ferelden.'"

Aedan groaned and rubbed his smiling face. Leliana hummed a tune under her breath. "I'll sing it to you when we make it out of here," she said.

"When? You mean if. This could be the end."

"I don't think so. It's not just us, struggling our way through werewolves and demons." Leliana pointed over to the bottom of the hill. All their soldiers- human, elves, dwarves, had amassed in one place. A sea of swords and shields glinted in the light. The air rumbled with their idle chatter. "We can do this."

"Here's hoping." Aedan stared passed the armies, to the city burning behind it. The darkspawn swarmed in and out of the main gate. The city walls had stood for hundreds of years, and yet now ogres pummeled holes through the stone. Smaller darkspawn swarmed in and out like insects. Smoke, clouds and lightning filled the skies.

"We don't need to hope. We have the Hero of Ferelden."

"Stop that."

"We could just go with 'dancing man'."

"Please no."

Aedan groaned as Leliana hugged Aedan about his torso. "You've been a good friend. I'm glad you let me come along at Lothering."

"Me too." Aedan returned the hug and patted Leliana on the back. "I'm serious about that 'Hero of Ferelden' business, though. Stop, or someone else might use it."

From around the corner, Morrigan stepped over. Her mouth twitched for a second, but her normal scowl faded into a small smile. She waved at Aedan. Leliana covered her mouth and snickered at her. "I'll give you two some privacy." She gave Morrigan a little nudge towards Aedan.

The witch rolled her eyes. "The bard is still spirited. Surprising considering the bloodshed ahead."

"Not even a little jealous?" Aedan raised an eyebrow, and took a step backwards. "Not going to hit me, or claw at my head as a raven?"

"If there is anything I've learnt about you is that people tend to hug you." Morrigan scratched at her cheek. Her gaze wandered away. "Besides, do I get to be jealous anymore?"

Aedan gave a hollow laugh. "I guess not."

In the two days ride from Redcliffe to Denerim, the two had taken the same wagon, but had slept on opposite sides of the wagon. They had made the excuse it would have been awkward for Alistair and Leliana, who also resided in the wagon with them. Few words had passed between the two.

Morrigan was leaving. Aedan had asked her to stay, and she had said no. She had gotten her ritual. She had gotten what she needed. Aedan's hand clenched by his side. Perhaps he might live on. He would slay the Archdemon. People would cheer. Parades would be held. Yet to Aedan, that future marked not a continuation, not a beginning, but as he had told Leliana, an end.

Yet she still stood right in front of him, with those golden eyes that stared at him, the strands of her black hair rustling in the wind despite being tied up. If he blinked too fast, she'd vanish. Really though, had anybody else in his life been any different? In a blink, his life had passed and his loved ones had left. So while she still stood here-

Aedan reached out for her hand. "Morrigan, can I say something, before we-"

Alistair jogged over from behind the two. A brilliant light glinted off his royal gold armor right into Aedan's eyes. The hand that had reaches towards Morrigan now moved back in front of Aedan's face as the man squinted. Eamon followed him, along with Ser Perth and a legion of Redcliffe knights.

"Aedan! We need you up at the platform."

Aedan opened his mouth to speak to Morrigan, but the witch had already walked off to join the rest of his companions. "Coming." He gave Morrigan a small unseen wave before heading off with Alistair and Eamon. The three paced towards the platform. The Archdemon's roar echoed in the air.

"Now or never, Aedan. All that's left is the final speech," said Eamon.

"Speech? Shouldn't the king do that?"

"Nobles know of Alistair, nobody else, but the soldiers down there, human, elf, dwarf, they've all heard the tales about you. They all know the tales of the man who saved the tower, who made the centuries old Zathrian surrender, who walked back from the bowels of-"

"I get it." Aedan surveyed the army before him. "Last time I gave a speech it was a bunch of villagers and knights. This is an army. Armies." Aedan cleared his throat. "Maker, you're putting a lot of pressure on me." He took a deep breath in.

"Give them a speech to remember, buddy." Alistair slapped Aedan on the back and pushed him forward up the steps of the platform.

Aedan climbed upon the makeshift platform. Before him, a sea of thousands of men and women stood at attention. The chatter immediately died. Aedan looked at the faces in the front, filled with fear for what they would face, and reverence for the man before him. Aedan spread his gaze from soldier to soldier. "If you are here for glory, you will not find that here." Aedan paused, swallowed, and pointed over at the burning city. "Ahead of us is a bloody battlefield filled with the corpses of the innocent. Monsters ravage our lands, the likes of which few of you have seen. They blight our crops, kill the innocent, and bring about the end of days. That is the foe we face. They do not know honor nor mercy, only death. A small part of all of you is afraid, but you must remember more. This world is more than just endless cycles of death and destruction.

"Look around you. Humans, elves, dwarves. Each and everyone of your comrades are here, fighting for them. Fighting for you. Remember all that, grip your weapon, and stare past the abyss before us. Have faith in your fellow soldiers. With our strength, we will avenge our fallen. We will protect hope. But most of all-"

Aedan took his helm, with gryphon wings welded onto the side, and placed it on his head. From beneath his helm, no one saw his eyes search for Morrigan among the crowd.

"We will protect all we love. Today, brave men and women of Ferelden, remember."

Aedan slammed his sword against his shield. "Remember all you have left back at home! Wives, husbands, daughters, sons, friends! Remember every moment you've spent with them, every smile, every tear, everything! Today, you fight for them!" He thrust his sword into the air. Every soldier threw their weapons and fists into the air. The crowds thundered. The platform shook beneath Aedan.

"Remember, and fight!"

* * *

The greatsword plummeted against Aedan's shield. His feet sunk into the ground. Bits of flesh from fallen soldiers dripped down the shield. Aedan tugged his feet out of the soil and dove to the side as the sword swiped above him. Aedan's sword aimed straight for the creature's exposed armpit. The tip dug into the creature's arm. The warden yanked straight through the creature's joint with his blade. The massive greatsword slid across the battlefield alongside a severed arm. The general howled at him with razor sharp teeth. Aedan slapped the darkspawns helm off and dodged its punch. Morrigan shot a bolt of energy straight into the creature's open wound. Aedan pushed the staggering creature at the nearby ogre. Leliana drew her bowstring back as she took a single breath in. She paused, then let her arrow fly straight into the general's forehead. As his last breath left him, blood bubbled up from his throat and wounds. An explosion of flesh and blood threw the ogre onto it's back. Alistair sprinted over to the prone beast and sliced its throat.

"Soldiers!" barked Aedan. "Secure the marketplace! I want a man watching every single alleyway! This is major entrance to the rest of the districts. Kardol, head to slums., there's bound to be survivors there. Lanaya, I need you and your elves scouting out all possible incoming assaults."

"Aedan, look!"

In the sky, the Archdemon struggled with a sole passenger with a Grey Warden insignia atop his chest. The man sliced at the creature's wings. The howl of the archdemon shook the entire city. Its flight path zigzagged. It flipped upside down and threw the warden clear off. Aedan and Alistair could only watch the small dot that was Riordan plummet into the buildings below.

"Damn it all."

"Alistair, keep looking."

The Archdemon spiraled about the air. The tattered skin of its wings flapped in the wind. The dragon flailed in the air, but it too plummeted down into a nearby fort Aedan knew well.

"Fort Drakon." Aedan turned to all the troops in the vicinity. He climbed onto the body of the ogre to get a clear look at everyone. "Warden Riordan has just sacrificed his life to give us an opportunity of a lifetime. The archdemon is maimed, and is grounded atop Fort Drakon. We have only a few hours before it heals and can get airborne again. Gregoir, Irving, I need you two to get all the mages to Fort Drakon. There's one more general calling most of the darkspawn in the vicinity to the Alienage to consolidate strength. You two need to route around the Alienage through the smaller bridge to the Palace District."

Aedan jumped off the ogre and pointed over at newly arriving troops. "Footmen! See to it that the mages get to Fort Drakon, no matter what." The rest of Aedan's companions had stayed behind to secure the gate until enough soldiers had arrived to take their place. While Aedan doubted there were enough soldiers to match an ancient war golem, a berserker dwarf, and a rampaging qunari, Aedan hoped he'd see his other companions one last time.

As the four walked off towards the Alienage, Aedan rubbed his throat through the fabric that covered it. "Anybody got water? Barking orders to several armies...not fun." He gulped down a waterskin that Alistair had handed him.

"You know, the way you climbed up onto that ogre's dead body made it seemed like you killed, when I was actually the one who did." Alistair shook his head and clicked his tongue at Aedan. "No manners."

"I killed the general."

"Leliana killed the general, actually."

"I pushed it towards the ogre, which let you kill it."

"Morrigan made it explode."

"Fine. Sorry for stealing your kill. I'll make it up to you."

Alistair gave Aedan a lopsided smile. "No, you won't."

Aedan paused, but had no words to say. He put his helm back on, handed the waterskin back to Alistair, then trudged on forward towards the Alienage. As the screams and corpses surrounding them increased, so did Aedan's Aedan sprinted through familiar alleyways. How many times had he sprinted through these same alleyways to train with Teharel? To rush back to the Cousland estate after exploring the city till late at night?

The group rounded the corner into the main Alienage square. By the Alienage tree, approaching darkspawn surrounded a group of Alienage elves. Aedan clapped his sword against his shield. "OI!" The darkspawn still inched closer to the elves. Aedan pondered, thinking back on what had happened in Redcliffe a few days ago, when the other darkspawn had rushed him in a frenzy. Aedan nodded at Alistair to raise his shield. "Get ready." He clenched his fists and willed the tainted mixture within him to activate. The veins on his face darkened. The edges of his eyes went red. The darkspawn, snarling, twisted towards him and broke into a sprint.

Aedan and Alistair charged into the fray. Leliana's arrows flew from behind them into the heads of the oncoming darkspawn. A bolt of magic passed through one of the darkspawn. It's skin bubbled and blackened, before exploding outwards, sending the rest of its allies sprawling. Aedan and Alistair stabbed their swords into the exposed necks of the laying darkspawn. Once the last one fell, Aedan rushed over to the survivors. There by the tree gathered a sizeable group of Alienage elves, armed with daggers, makeshift bows and arrows, and kitchen knives tied to poles. Hijaya and Jarat stood near the middle with many of the younger elves, including their own children. Hijaya ran up to Aedan and embraced him in a hug. "How is it you always have such good timing?"

"It's a gift." Aedan pulled out of the hug to survey the burning slum. "What's the situation?"

"Some of the other Alienage elves broke off into separate groups. A good portion of them made it out, but we've a lot of children in this group. We can't move that quickly nor through dense areas."

Aedan scouted about for any sign of the general. "We told soldiers to follow us to the Alienage as soon as they secured the marketplace...I don't know how much longer it'll take them though." Stragglers from the horde wandered about, but Leliana picked them off from a distance. Aedan closed his eyes, concentrating on the general's tainted presence. The signal neared, but Aedan opened his eyes and saw nothing."Hijaya, have you seen a hurlock emissary different from the others around? I can sense he's close, but there's too many darkspawn to get an exact location."

"I don't even know what 'emissary' means."

"Big, ugly, large staff, casts fireballs."

"I'm sorry, there's been a lot of darkspawn around, I don't know."

"Bigger, uglier, larger staff, casts a lot of fireballs," added Alistair.

A nearby building exploded. Out of the wreckage walked a gargantuan hurlock. Other hurlocks half his size scurried out from the explosion and roared. The severed heads of elves and humans lined the larger hurlock's gnarled staff. He threw his head back and roared. Shrieks, genlocks, and hurlocks crawled out of the alleyways. The emissary marched towards Aedan and the rest with is darkspawn army in tow. Hijaya pointed over at the burning building and the incoming horde. "Probably him."

"Couldn't have guessed." Aedan secured his helm upon his head. "Stay clear." Aedan and Alistair rushed at the darkspawn. The general raised a single hand at the two, A horde of shrieks sprinted out from behind him. The emissary raised his staff. A storm of lightning shot out through the field. Morrigan snapped her fingers and a glyph appeared on Aedan's shield. The man charged at the emissary shield first. The lightning pulsed and struck at the shield, but the glyph pulsed back and the lightning bounced and crackled back into the air. Just as Aedan was about to reach the emissary, wave of telekinetic force threw everyone, darkspawn and Warden alike, backwards. His eyes glowed with fire. The sky darkened as rubble swirled up into the sky.

"Morrigan! Defend the elves!"

The witch gripped her staff in both hands and drove it into the ground. A bubble of magic spread out from the center and surrounded the elves. Meteors barraged the bubble. Witch each blow, it's light waned and Morrigan's grip trembled. A drop of blood trickled out her nose.

Aedan and Alistair rolled and dodged their way through the fiery assault. As attackers lunged at them, Leliana's dispatched them with her arrows. The two wardens inched their way towards the emissary yet again, only for the emissary to bring his staff down and push everyone back.

A massive fireball collided into the bubble. The barrier flickered on and off and bits of fire rained down into it. Hijaya's youngest son tugged his mother out of the path of an incoming fireball. He tripped and tumbled outside of the bubble. An incoming fireball rocketed towards him.

"NO!"

The ground shook as the fireball exploded into the ground. Hijaya tried to make it past the bubble, but it had flickered back on.

A grizzled man stood back up with Hijaya's youngest in his arms. His tattered cloak flapped in the wind, revealing the splint mail beneath. Countless bombs hung from his belt and chest, and even more beneath his coat. The man adjusted his eye patch, then pulled a spare piece of debris out of his shoulder. He set the young elf down onto the ground, staring down with a snarl. "What's your name, kid?"

The elf's little legs shook. "T...T...Teharel."

"Get back to your mother." Adair wiped his bloody lip and spat out the blood that had pooled into his mouth. "I'll take care of it from here, Teharel."

Teharel rushed back into his mother's embrace. Hijaya held her youngest tight, and her gaze bore into Adair. Her hand gripped her son tighter. Her breathing hastened. Adair narrowed his eyes back at her, then walked over to Aedan. "Nothing good ever seems to happen when you're around."

"Thanks." Aedan sliced at the necks of two darkspawn. "If you were in the city, you could have just escorted the elves earlier, saved us all the trouble."

"This asshole-" Adair pointed straight up at the Archdemon circling the city, "and his brethren have been making a right mess of the area. Been hard to get through to here. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

"Like anything you've ever done has been a gift."

Aedan blocked with his shield and pushed the oncoming attackers back. "You three, protect the elves. Adair and I will take care of the general."

"Who?"

"Never mind! Just kill those darkspawn."

Adair and Aedan stood back to back, slicing down a horde of shrieks. "What the hell are you doing here? Refugees everywhere, you could have-" Aedan drove his sword into a darkspawn behind him. "Could have gone anywhere else."

The emissary raised his hand, and the darkspawn assembled about him. Those approaching the elves drew back. Magic swirled at the general's feet. Adair gripped both his swords as he and Aedan marched towards the emissary. "You dropped your flask."

"You here to return it? Could use a whiskey right about now."

"I'm old. I forget things."

"Try to keep up then."

The two broke into a sprint. The emissary pointed at the two and screamed. Darkspawn too poured out to surround Aedan and Adair. Aedan whirled into the oncoming crowd. His shield pummeled into them, then his sword struck at their eyes. Aedan pushed them into Adair as the other man drove his swords into their chests. Aedan's veins darkened as he rammed through the oncoming attackers, with Adair following behind him. Fire and lightning blazed at him but bounced off his shield, still under the effects of Morrigan's spell.

"On three, jump up on over me. One-"

Adair shoved Aedan forward and climbed up on the man's shoulders."Three." Adair soared off of Aedan's shoulders above the general. He threw a single flask down before tumbling into the darkspawn below. Smoke billowed out of the shattered glass. Aedan closed his eyes, concentrating on the taint within the general. Even through his eyelids, he saw a red outline of the creature, pulsing with the taint. He mowed through the crowd with broad strokes of his sword.

The emissary swung his staff at Aedan. Aedan disarmed the creature with a uppercut of his shield. Two swords burst out of the back of the emissary. Adair kicked the creature off of his sword. The beast tumbled face forward into the ground. Aedan slammed his foot into the creature's skull. Brain and bone splattered onto his legguards.

Another squadron arrived through the main Alienage gate. Aedan's eyes darted towards the bridge to the Palace district. The rain of fireballs had loosened the foundation, and bit and pieces of the bridge already crumbled down below. His eyes darted back to the elves.

"You got places you have to be, right?" Adair pointed over to the collapsing bridge. "Leave. I'll cover the elves escape. The path behind me is clear, and soldiers have occupied the marketplace alleyways."

"You're going to escort them all?"

"No, if they're to get back safely, they need a distraction. The creatures are already pooling here, they just need something to keep their attention."

"Adair…"

"I've done a lot of questionable things. For once, it'll be good to do something..better."

Aedan and Adair looked at each other. Aedan grunted, tugged a single explosive vial from his belt, and shoved it into Adair's hand. "Hijaya!" shouted Aedan across the Alienage, "I need to head towards the Archdemon. Take the elves and run towards the market district! Adair will provide a distraction for your escape!" He turned around without a word and sprinted off towards the collapsing bridge. Adair chuckled once, before surveying the incoming horde. He grimaced and strapped Aedan's vial to his belt.

Hijaya looked over at Adair, her fist still trembling. She bit her tongue, turned back to Aedan, and nodded. She grabbed her children by the hand and rushed towards the alleyways. The rest of the elves followed. Darkspawn scurried towards them, but a nearby explosion made them turn towards the source.

Adair huffed as he pulled off his coat, filled to the brim with flasks. He unstrapped a handful of explosive flasks into each hand from the ragged cloth. He spiraled into a central point right by the Alienage tree, laying explosives with each step. The creatures closed in around him. Adair threw one bomb at a clustered area on the ground. Fire blazed. The encroaching darkspawn burst into a red mist. Sand blew up against Adair's eye. As more and more approached, Adair threw every last one of his flasks into the minefield he had created. The explosions brought more and more darkspawn out of the alleyways towards the Adair and the Alienage tree. The dead leaves shook down from the tree.

"Come on, beasties! You think you scare me?" Adair gritted his teeth as a shirek leapt from behind and sliced at him. He grabbed the beast by its neck, slammed it against the tree, and twisted with both hands. The neck snapped and the shriek crumpled. Another clawed him in the back. Adair kicked it away and threw his last explosive into the crowd. Guts flew against his face, and he himself was flung backwards against the tree. Adair grinned as the darkspawn beset him on all sides. His knees creaked as Adair pushed himself back up. He wiped the sweat from his brow, then drew both his swords.

"See you soon, Teharel."

* * *

Both ogres fell onto the ground. Aedan rolled off of one. He held his pinky finger and cringed. "Anymore creeping around?" He closed his eyes and tried to sense anymore in the room. The dragon outside however overpowered any accuracy he might have had.

"Room's secure. Can't seem to open the door though." Oghren kicked at the wooden door and cursed. The tower of Fort Drakon shook as the Archdemon outside the doors roared. The dwarf fell backwards mid-kick.

Shale slammed her fists against the door. "It is barricaded from behind. Perhaps the Archdemon knows you approach."

Both Aedan and Alistair held their heads in their hands as a surge of pain echoed in their heads. "It definitely knows," groaned Alistair. The king steadied himself against the wall. All of Aedan's companions drew their weapons. By now, soldiers had secured the gate, allowing Sten and the rest to rejoin them.

As Aedan reached for his shield upon the ground, the pain in his pinky flared. He cringed and rubbed his pinky again through his gauntlet. Morrigan swerved from behind him and grabbed at his pinky. Her face leaned in close to his hand. "Did you sprain it whilst fighting?"

Aedan pulled his finger from her grasp. "It'll be fine." He stretched out his fingers and waved his hand. His pinky throbbed and Aedan scratched at it.

"Take off the gauntlet, fool."

"I don't know if we have time." Dust fell from the ceiling as Shale battered the door.

"We have a little." Morrigan tugged Aedan's gauntlet off.

The man rolled his eyes, but unhooked the straps keeping it on. Aedan winced as Morrigan pressed her fingers against his pinky. "This is it," he said, out of ear of the others.

Morrigan stepped in closer. "Yes."

"You're leaving as soon as it dies?"

"It will be easier that way, yes." Morrigan held Aedan's hand in hers. Warmth trickled over him as her hand glowed. His pinky straightened, and the swelling died down. Morrigan swallowed. "Many things could have been easier...like what happened between us." The light from Morrigan's hands faded, but she still gripped Aedan's hand. "But I do not regret it. Do you?"

Aedan smiled at her. "Not a single second."

Morrigan's lips trembled. In a voice so quiet, that Aedan almost couldn't hear, Morrigan said, "I shall always remember you, my love."

Seconds left now. The wood crackled beneath Shale's blows. Tiny rays of light burst into the room. The sound of swords and flame trickled in.

The word came to him. The word he never said to them. The final word, the worst word, the only word that could be said.

"G-"

His throat closed up. The light burst into the room. Aedan and Morrigan shared one last lingering look. They turned away from one another. Morrigan gripped her staff. Aedan put his helm back on. The roar of the Archdemon echoed.


	69. One

The Archdemon screeched as Aedan and the others entered the rooftop. Already corpses littered the battlefield. The Archdemon twisted its maw, dripping with entrails, towards Aedan and the rest. Purple flame swirled then scattered across the battlefield. Morrigan and Wynne held their staffs forward, and the flames dispersed against their magic barrier.

"We need to spread out! We can't let it pick us off in groups. Eamon, tell the knights to defend the mages and mount the ballistas. Kardol-"

The fire died just as the barrier burst. The dwarven legionnaires charged into the fray. Kardol pointed at the Archdemon. "We'll clear the path! Just kill the damn thing quick! Ancestors help us if that thing takes off again." He roared and swung his axe into the oncoming horde.

Aedan sprinted forward, but the Archdemon barreled at him. Each step it took shook the floor beneath. Just as the jaws snapped above Aedan, he slid under the massive beast. He struck at the underside, but his blade bounced off rusty, violet scales. The footsteps of his melee allies thundered behind him. Shale's crystals glowed till Aedan squinted. "The world's most vile bird. I will enjoy this." Shale hammered her fists into the belly, sending small cracks along the scales. Oghren and Sten cleaved their weapons at the cracks. Rusted, broken bits rained upon them. They sliced upwards, but the Archdemon leapt up and to the left.

Those who had attacked the belly now faced the creature's open jaws and the flame whirling within. Morrigan lept forward and cast her barrier to block the creature's blast. Sweat dripped down her forehead as she stepped further and further back. The creature's mouth closed, but fire lingered everywhere. Aedan and the rest dodged through a maze of flames to the Archdemon. They struck at the legs, for the neck hovered out of reach. Morrigan shot modest bolts of magic at the Archdemon, with her gaze darting over at her allies and then back at the Archdemon's mouth. The second an inkling of flame flickered she cast a barrier.

Leliana let her arrows fly, but the Archdemon flapped its damaged wings and threw her arrows off path. She turned to the nearby horde of darkspawn. One of her arrows zipped into a darkspawn attacking the mages. Each time the Archdemon spewed, the mages cast barriers to protect those in the path. Aedan grimaced- the Archdemon forced them on the defensive, but they only had limited manpower and energy. Continuing any longer like this meant defeat.

"Mages, more of you concentrate on attacking the Archdemon!"

Aedan watched a burst of flame consume a squad of Redcliffe knights. He sprinted towards the beast, but shrieks grabbed at his shoulders. They tugged, but his legs held. Aedan whirled free while swinging his sword. Genlocks crouched beneath his blade and rammed at his shins, but Gregory flung them onto their backs. The mabari ripped his fangs into their necks. Aedan bounded over his faithful companion, but not before kicking another Hurlock in front of the rampaging dog.

Without as many barriers up, more soldiers fell to the Archdemon's attacks. The few survivors barricaded the mages in a circle to defend them. The legionnaires still stood, charging alongside Aedan and his melee companions. Several elven units had joined the fight atop the fort. Their arrows picked off stragglers that blocked moving warriors. Whenever the soldiers could, they rushed at the Archdemon and struck. It picked up one such soldier, who had been hacking at its leg, and tossed him off the fort. The other soldiers hesitated, but Aedan charged forth. "We can do this! Keep pushing forward!"

The Archdemon stomped over. Its foreleg swiped at Aedan, smashing soldiers in its path, but Aedan rolled sideways. He jabbed at the Archdemon's eye, but his blade fell short. The archdemon's tail whipped into him. Aedan rolled across the ground. Pain surged through his ankle as it twisted. He slid to a halt. The warden lept up, gritting his teeth.

The doors to the second entrance to Fort Drakon burst open. Aedan grinned. "Reinforcements, about damn time!"

Darkspawn poured through, devouring the guards in a sea of metal. Emissaries, ogres, and hurlocks marched behind the foot soldiers.

"Shit!" Aedan surveyed the current battleground. The knights protected the mages, but darkspawn picked off the defenders. The new arrivals would only strain the army's already fragile defense. He whistled at his allies and jabbed his thumb over at the darkspawn. "Take care of them. I'll keep the Archdemon's attention in the meantime." Once they had departed, Aedan turned back to the Archdemon, only to see fire consume the soldier next to him. Aedan leapt away, but flames singed the edges of his boots. He slid across the ground as he landed. The Archdemon's claw blotted out the sun. Aedan rolled sideways right as it crashed beside him. He scrambled to arise.

Only one choice now since the archdemon could fan its blast out to catch him. The beast charged up to spew, but kept its stare on Aedan. In those few seconds Aedan activated the taint within him, willing his legs to carry him straight at the mouth. He dived beneath right as it unleashed fire and scorched any soldiers following him, friendly or darkspawn. He struck again at its neck, but his sword still bounced off, despite the cracks in the scales from Shale and the rest. The dragon bristled beneath the blow, then throttled its claws into the ground and shrieked.

Darkspawn swarmed the fort, and for each that came Aedan waved another soldier to fight the new threats. The Archdemon, still grounded, stampeded after Aedan. While his companions kept the tougher darkspawn busy, the knights and dwarves held off the infantry, so the mages and elven archers could attack the Archdemon. Each time their magic and arrows hit, the scales cracked and chipped.

Aedan rushed in again at the creature's neck. His sword shattered a single scale. A drop of blood fell.

_They could do this. They could-_

Air swirled beneath the dragon's rising feet. Aedan's stomach dropped. He looked at a hole left by Riordan in the dragon's wing. Flesh and sinew stitched itself together. The archdemon shot into the sky. It swooped down and grabbed a soldier in its mouth. Bits of the woman's body splattered on her own comrades. The archdemon took off again. Soldiers scattered. "What next, Warden?" asked one, his voice trembling.

"I…"

 _I do_ _n't know_ _._

Aedan tugged his helm down tighter. "We don't know where it will land or hit next. Tell everyone you can to stay near a mage and defend them no matter what. A living mage means a score of safe soldiers."

"Ay, sir!" The soldier rushed off towards the group containing Grand Enchanter Irving. Aedan grimaced while running towards other soldiers and directing them to follow suit. Tainted fireballs rained from the sky, scattering stone and flesh everywhere. The mages cast barriers and soldiers rushed for the closest ones. The lucky few found themselves behind the magical barriers, but the barrage of flame consumed the rest. Their screams filled the battlefield and echoed in Aedan's ears. The man slew any darkspawn attacking the mages while he moved from barrier to barrier. The fire almost hit him several times, but each time Aedan activated the taint in his legs, and leapt.

They had to ground it in one place, otherwise arrows nor magic could hit it, let alone melee soldiers. Aedan racked his mind as he watched an ogre feast upon a elven archer. Maybe he could attract it down with his ability? Aedan activated the tainted blood across his entire body. His veins darkened. The edges of his eyes filled with red. The archdemon glanced at him from above, but resumed its flight.

His legs ached. Though he had no scars to bleed from on his calves, the constant jumping had left Aedan panting. He dragged his legs over to the next barrier, but the floor rocked behind him as the Archdemon slammed into it. Aedan whipped around at the creature again. No doubt it'd spit fire, and as he predicted another blast festered in its mouth. He stampeded closer and closer. Just as he was an arms length away from the flame, it snuffed out.

Aedan halted a second too late. The Archdemon snapped its mouth around him. Aedan wedged his limbs in gaps between the fangs. His limbs trembled beneath the clamping force. The dragon's saliva dripped through his visor. A sour scent whiffed into his nostrils. The Archdemon howled and shook its head. Aedan's footing slipped. A fang jabbed towards his eye, but he caught the upper jaw with his right forearm and the lower with his left. The tip hovered a hair above his face.

Aedan's heavy breath rang throughout his helm. The Warden cringed, but opened his eyes. No missing limbs, no pain. Something dripped down his body though- perhaps the Archdemon's saliva? Aedan looked at his side. The Archdemon's fang dug deep into it. His broken chainmail flailed from his side. Something white protruded from the fang.

_Ah, that's just my rib._

Aedan howled as his side spasmed and innards spilled. The Archdemon's jaws tightened, gouging the tooth further into Aedan's organs. His vision flashed white, black, white, then blurred red. Aedan tumbled in the Archdemon's grip. Sweat drizzled across his face as he gritted his teeth. The fang shook inside his innards, piercing through his stomach. Acid dripped out and sizzled at his insides. Aedan screamed till his throat went numb.

"Get the Warden free!" shouted the men below. The soldiers below hacked at the creature's legs, only to be smashed into a pulp. The beast tossed Aedan aside, its tooth ripping through more flesh. Aedan crashed into the floor on his back.

He heard his name screamed. Fireballs shook his surroundings. The Archdemon's wings thrashed. Wind buffeted Aedan towards the rooftop's edge. Right before he would have rolled off, Aedan wedged his sword into a crack between the stone floor. He gripped with both hands as he dangled halfway off. His legs flailed in the wind. The Archdemon soared up, and purple flames rained. The nearby corpses of soldiers and darkspawn alit. Aedan could only watch as the renewed horde overwhelmed the troops. Soldier after soldier fell to blade and flame. The fires merged, blazed towards Aedan, and encircled him.

Aedan pulled himself onto the fort and collapsed onto his forearms. His vision blurred in and out of focus. Blood pooled beneath him. He reached out for someone, anyone, to heal him. "Morrigan," he gurgled. "It's... it's cold. Why's it so cold?" The fire surrounded him. Though the light would have blinded him, he saw only darkness. Aedan dropped as his limbs faltered. He took a deep breath and pushed against the floor. His arms trembled as his chest lifted, but his palms slipped in blood and Aedan crashed down. Pain flushed through every muscle. His eyes fluttered shut. The scene before him shuttered between the fires of the fort, and the fires of Highever. He choked on the smoke. Between Aedan's wheezing breaths, someone whispered, "Aedan."

The warden strained up. Bryce Cousland smiled from above. Aedan slumped down. "Maker, have I lost that much blood?" He rolled over to glance at his father. "Come to take me, I guess?"

"We never left you...or perhaps you never let us go." Bryce's foot nudged Aedan. "Come on, pup. You still have an Archdemon to kill."

"It's... up in the sky…" Aedan tried to point at the dragon, but his hand collapsed. "And I'm down here."

"It'll come." His mother knelt beside him. Her fingers stroked his hair- or was that just blood trickling down his forehead? "Do that trick, and they'll charge at you." She kissed him on the forehead. "You always were such a clever boy."

"It didn't come before."

"You weren't using all of it." Eleanor pinched his cheek. "How many times have I told you to stop being lazy?"

"What? All of it?" Aedan grabbed at Eleanor's hand, but he passed right through her.

Oren bounded over to him from the fire. He laughed and spun in circles, till he made himself dizzy. He stumbled onto his bottom next to Aedan. "But if you want to stay here, uncle, you can. We could watch the clouds together, just like we used to."

Nan nodded from above. "Every man has a final battle."

Fergus stood next to Oriana. He held his wife in his arms and smiled. "You've done enough, brother. You can rest. Nobody would blame you for it."

Aedan wheezed and clutched at his side. He curled up into a fetal position as the pain from his side grew. "I don't…"

"It's not that you _need_ to do anything," said his father. "It's not that you _should_ do anything. It's not that you _have_ to do anything." Bryce knelt down beside his son and smiled. "What do you _want_ to do, son?"

"What do I want to do?" His cheek lay on the ground. The fires blazed around him. Figures danced behind them, growing closer, only to be pushed back by shadows. Their screams rumbled. Aedan rolled over onto his back. "I…"

His head thudded against stone. Aedan watched the Archdemon fly circles. Far in the distance, it seemed so small. Feeling rather lightheaded, he couldn't help but chuckle. "When it's up there, it reminds me of this one dinner. Do you remember? When Fergus and I bickered over who would get the biggest piece of chicken? We pulled on opposite ends of the chicken, and the thing flew across the room. Soaring like an Archdemon."

His heart clenched. He glanced over at the horde culling the army, then his gaze turned to over the fort's edge. Below him lay all of Denerim. The soldiers filled the battlefield like specks of sand. Aedan smiled. He crawled over to his sword, groaning each time he pulled. Aedan nudged the metal into the fire, then collapsed again. He watched till the Cousland blade glowed as hot as the day Caridin reforged it.

"Do you remember laughing as you watched Teharel parry my blows with a blindfold on? Do you remember when I was young, and the thunder boomed outside? And Mother would tuck me in, hold my hand, and tell me it would be okay? Or when I couldn't even reach the cupboards, so Father would lift me atop his shoulders, and then he'd run with me through the castle?"

Aedan's trembling fingers reached for the hilt. "Everyone fighting...everyone living...they all have memories like that. They all will make memories like that. They're friends, sons, husbands, fathers, daughters, wives-" Aedan rolled over, and though he couldn't see Morrigan, he heard her booming magic. "Mothers."

Aedan pulled apart the hole in his chainmail as far it'd go. The cold air stung the open wound. He held his glowing sword onto the floor, then rolled on top of the orange-red metal. The wound sizzled and bubbled as the sword cauterized his flesh. Aedan clenched his jaw to muffle himself. He contorted atop the steel while his vision flashed white. He lifted himself off the sword. Strands of molten skin clung to it. Frayed edges of chainmail melted and blended with charred flesh. He curled up while hoarse whimpers escaped him.

"So I'll get up."

Aedan slammed his sword into the stone floor below. The straps of his armor strained against his trembling arms.

"I'll get up."

The veins on Aedan's face blackened. His scar on his right hand from Branka burst open through its stitching, yet Aedan clenched his hilt.

"I'll get up."

Aedan throttled his foot into the ground. The stone beneath shattered. As he pushed with all his might into the sword, the blood gushed through his gauntlet.

"One more time."

Tears mixed with red trickled down his face.

"I'll get up."

Aedan stood back up, gripping both sword and shield. The whites of his eyes swirled with red until no white remained. The taint pulsed through the air. Every darkspawn at the tower spun at him. They barreled over, some even tripping over themselves. They bared their rotted teeth and snarled as they sprinted at him. Mucus flew from their mouths. The horde blotted out any sign of friendly faces. They even charged through the flames, which engulfed the first wave. Their charred bodies soon writhed on the ground. Enough piled up to snuff out the flames.

The warden hobbled into a ready position. The second wave trampled over their burning brethren. Aedan flung every explosive he had. Chunks of the second waves splattered against him. The explosion rang in his ear, and white light blinded him. Aedan stumbled and clenched his teeth. Though his vision had blurred, Aedan smelled their rotten taint. Shadows of red and black ran at him. Aedan swung his sword into the first, cleaving its head clean off. Steel rained down, but Aedan parried, each time striking back harder and knocking his opponents down. His feet and blade slammed against the ground again and again. Bodies crunched underneath him and a red mist surrounded the area. A bloody pulp gushed between the cracks of the stone floor.

Aedan drummed sword against shield. The sound rang out across the roof. He stumbled forwards, gritting his teeth as he caught himself with his weapon. "COME ON!" he screamed till his throat ached. He clenched his fists. The taint roared in every muscle in his body. Aedan tasted the iron thick in the air. The darkspawns' nostrils flared as they sniffed about. Their pupils dilated.

From across the horde Aedan spotted Alistair. He gave the man a single nod. Alistair rushed over to the mages. "Fire everything you have! Aedan's gathering them all together! Every arrow, every spell, every bolt, fire it all! If you've got a weapon in hand, protect the ranged soldiers at all costs! Stragglers are bound to come to pick at us. Sten, Oghren, Shale, Zevran, we need to ease the pressure on Aedan around the edges!"

As Aedan's allies leapt into action, explosions rocked the battleground surrounding him, sending darkspawn flying. Fire, lightning, and ice blazed everywhere. Aedan raised his shield to protect himself from the onslaught of arrows, but one pierced the gap between his shoulder while the others downed the darkspawn behind him. Aedan roared, pulled it out, and slammed it into the face of an oncoming hurlock. He gutted his fist into another's torso and grabbed its innards. He threw the body into an incoming squadron of the wretched creatures. With the sword in his other hand he struck at the torsos of his rear attackers. Red splashed against him, and their entrails spilled onto the stone floor. Another explosion sprayed fire against the side of his face. Aedan cringed as a dagger grazed his cauterized wound. The Archdemon landed at the other side of the battlefield, the impact shaking Aedan. It stared straight at him. Aedan charged.

Healing magic shimmered all about him, but his wounds and scars still spewed open, rendering the magic useless. Aedan turned to see Morrigan far off before another fireball rocked the surrounding area. He held his shield up to block the incoming blast, but the explosion threw him against the ground. The archdemon roared again as its body bathed in the flames.

A claw slammed down, but Aedan raised his shield up. His legs buckled beneath the archdemon's blow. With a roar, Aedan flung the claw off. He stumbled while panting. He turned at the incoming darkspawn. His allies still couldn't get to him- the darkspawn kept piling through the entrances of Fort Drakon. So many kept coming, and his taint-ridden body could not have lured them all. Aedan wheezed, then grinned at the Archdemon. "It's you, isn't it? You're scared." Aedan shook and coughed out a small chuckle. "Good." The archdemon roared in reply. Every nearby darkspawn raised their weapons, howling. Those unfortunate few soldiers in radius found countless blades piercing their bodies as the horde charged in Aedan's direction. The Archdemon leapt at Aedan, but a barrage of magic slammed it away.

Darkspawn after darkspawn piled onto him, covering him in metal and teeth. They hissed and howled at him, scraping him with their steel. A roar built in the depths of his stomach. He cleaved and cleaved. His vision filled with only flying guts and the color of his reddening eyes. A pike stabbed straight through the crowd at Aedan's eye. The left side of his vision vanished. Aedan clutched at what little remained of his eye, but in that moment another darkspawn stabbed him through the shoulder. The warden wrenched both swords from the creatures' grasps, then whirled his blade at their necks. A shriek lept from behind and gouged their fangs into his upper back. Genlocks sliced at his ankles and knees. Hurlock weapons rained down upon his armor. Each blow reverberated in his bones. His body ached and screamed. The stench from their rotted teeth filled his lungs. Darkspawn surrounded Aedan till with his intact eye he saw only steel and darkness.

The taint boiled within him. Aedan threw back his attackers with his sword and shield. His own blood swirled in the air and on his skin. It bubbled, solidified into shards, then sprayed outwards through the cracks in his armor. Countless hole-ridden bodies fell. Aedan marched over the corpses towards the Archdemon and the remaining horde. "Is that all you've got?" Aedan revealed his scarlet-soaked teeth. The blood dripped down from his maimed left eye. He sprinted through the darkspawn, shield first. Their bones snapped upon his shield and underneath his feet as he trampled over those who fell.

The Archdemon stampeded at him, but a ballista bolt smashed into the Archdemon's side. Another tore through its wing. A third and final flew towards it, but the Archdemon batted at the bolt. The tip splintered in its claw, and the Archdemon wailed. Flame flickered in its open mouth, but darkspawn blocked all of Aedan's escape routes.

"Warden!"

Glyphs piled onto his shield. Aedan glanced at the mages, their staffs alit. He charged headfirst into the abyss. Aedan's shield buckled beneath the stream of flames, yet his limbs did not burn from the heat. The glyphs pulsed and shattered one after another. Ice clung to Aedan's shield, then melted clean off. The warden pushed right to the maw of the beast. He slammed his blade into its eye, then ducked under its flailing head. While the beast cried out, Aedan climbed up its leg onto its back. The dragon jostled beneath him. Aedan's legs slipped. He slammed his weapon into the beast. The warden grasped the blade with one hand, and the dragon's scales with another. He climbed further up: sword, hand, sword, then hand. Air swirled around the Archdemon as its wings flapped. The sudden wind of takeoff stung his face. Though it felt like his arm would tear, Aedan grappled across the airborne creature.

Once he had reached the bottom of the neck, he unfurled a rope from his back. He pulled out a metal hook attached to one end, but the wind barraged Aedan and the hook slipped from him. The rope unraveled, and the hook plummeted below. Aedan lept for the rope, groaning as gripped his hilt with the other arm. The scars from the werewolves' bites split open. With the edge of his fingers he caught the rope, and he tugged it into his grip. He tied the other end of the rope around his shield, then hacked the hook end under a scale at the bottom of the Archdemon's neck.

The archdemon whirled its head around and snapped at Aedan. Fire kindled within the bowels of its mouth. The man throttled his foot against the head. The bones in his leg cracked. The gashes from the undead of Redcliffe ruptured in his leg, and the claw marks from the abominations of the Circle split open on his back. Sweat boiled inside his armor as the flame blazed past him.

Aedan lept up the neck and dug the garroted end of his blade beneath the scales. He wrapped his legs around the neck, grasped the hilt of his sword with both hands, and ripped the creature's arteries open. Thick blood gushed forth onto Aedan's arm. The Archdemon crashed into the floor. It hurled Aedan from its neck, but Aedan tugged hard on his rope. His shoulder screamed as the rope pulled open the arrow wounds from the Tower of Ishal. He crashed onto the Archdemon sword first. He jammed the blade into the creature's flesh again and again. Gut sprayed against his face. Below him he heard weapons clanging at the creature's legs.

The dragon wailed, the air rumbled, and the floor shook. It flailed while breathing waves of fire. The melee soldiers leapt for cover. Aedan covered both his ears with his gauntlets. Blood dribbled from inside his ear drums. From a distance, he saw Morrigan. Between her hands a tempest of lightning, fire, and ice surged. Behind her a score of mages and Wynne all focused energy at the tips of their staffs. Two ballistas clicked into ready. A score of archers, their arrows ablaze with fire, drew their bows. She mouthed something at him, but Aedan's ringing ears blocked it out. Even without hearing her words, he sprinted on the creature towards the edge of the rooftop. He lept off, plummeting into the city below. The rope in his left hand went taut as Aedan's feet collided against the fort's side. Fireballs, arrows, and bolts rained behind him. The archdemon's screams shook the tower. More darkspawn piled from the entrances to strike at its assailants. The smoking creature collapsed while its troops protected it. Aedan hoisted himself up the side of the building. He tripped and almost collapsed. He held his forehead to steady his swirling vision. The gauntlet from his right arm dropped. Blood gushed from the scars on his right arm, from that fateful day in Highever. Aedan picked his gauntlet up and forced it back on. He stumbled again, but as he fell, he slammed his sword down to catch himself. He trudged forward, for before him lay a clear path to the fallen dragon, paved by the living and dead.

_One step._

His shattered ribs ached. Blood seeped out of his battered armor. Alistair crawled on the floor, the side of his face singed. He held his side, yet still outstretched his arm and mouthed, 'No'.

_One deep breath._

A warm iron flavor lingered on Aedan's tongue. He swallowed, and his throat spasmed. He tried to groan, but his throat, hoarse from shouting, only whimpered. Yet as he walked towards the Archdemon, the pain faded from his limbs. The throbbing in his head faded. The ringing of his ears blocked out the screams and clashing of steel.

Hordes of darkspawn rushed the battlefield, but the army held them off. The dragon writhed on the floor. It roared one last time. The dead rained off the side. The wind blew against Aedan, but he leaned on the Cousland blade to steady himself. Aedan limped over to the Archdemon. His shield dropped. He gripped his sword with both hands and raised it above the Archdemon's head.

_One thrust._

Aedan without a word slammed the sword into the archdemon. A pillar of brilliant light erupted and surrounded Aedan. A glowing orb arose from the archdemon's body, floating into the light. The orb inched towards him. A sweet song resonated in Aedan's ear. A golden city flashed before him, then blackened. Just at the orb neared him, it zipped away towards Morrigan, fading out of sight as soon it left the pillar of light. The darkspawn atop the roof hissed and jumped off.

The pillar exploded. Aedan throttled through the air. His back collided against the fort wall. Aedan sputtered as his bones fractured. Aedan willed himself to breathe, but with each breath daggers of pain dug into his chest. His eye drooped shut. One moment, Morrigan was shaking him, the next only darkness.

Alistair limped over to Aedan's fallen figure. He placed his hand on her shoulder, not daring to gaze at Aedan. "Morrigan, it's no use...killing the Archdemon...kills the Warden."

The witch slapped Alistair's hand off. "I had a contingency for when that happened, but it doesn't matter if he dies from his wounds!" Morrigan undid the straps of Aedan's armors. "Stay awake, do you hear me?"

Blood overflowed from Aedan's mouth as he coughed. His scars ached like his old foes had just stabbed him. Sweat dripped down his pale brow. The tainted ability still burned within his veins. Aedan clenched his only eye shut, but his ability sputtered on and off. "Come on, come on," he muttered, but still his scars bled out.

"He's alive?" croaked Alistair. He looked at his still breathing friend. His face alit. "Get Wynne, over here, NOW!"

The mage rushed over. Her hands ran over Aedan. "Get his armor off!" she barked. Alistair pulled at the armor straps that sealed Aedan up. He covered his mouth at the carnage and tried not to vomit. "Maker."

The cauterized flesh had split open. Charred muscle and melted skin throbbed. Aedan's pale face forced a smile. "Archdemon gouged me. Had to seal it up somehow." Aedan's vision shrunk. Something dragged him down, and the surrounding voices quieted. Little black spots danced in his sight, growing every second.

Morrigan's hands shined till she blinded all onlookers. She touched Aedan's ravaged body, where not a single wound had closed. She slammed her fist against the wall. "He's not healing again." Morrigan whipped her teary gaze to Aedan. "What did you do this time, you colossal fool!" She and Alistair undid rolls of bandages and held them up to Aedan's flesh.

"Bandages won't stop that."

Everyone turned to Wynne. The mage hovered her glowing hands over Aedan's wound. She shook her head. "It's damaged most of his organs. It's a miracle he lived after the Archdemon bit him, let alone managed to fight. Even if his body would let itself be healed, too much damage has been done. I have seen many a wounded soldier." Wynne cut herself off, and bit her lips to stop the tears. "I can ease the pain with magic. That's all."

"Would you?" Aedan coughed. His head drooped. "That'd be rather kind of you."

Wynne knelt down beside him and smiled. "Anything for you, my friend."

His stomach churned and acid spilled further out inside him. He gritted his teeth through the pain, but then warmth trickled through his veins. Wynne smiled at him, her hands glowing with a blue light. His breathing slowed and Aedan sighed. His clenched muscles relaxed. Despite Wynne's words, Morrigan still clutched onto Aedan's body with glowing hands. The light waned then died. Her face paled and her voice grew hoarse. "Come on, heal damn it, heal." Morrigan held her fingers against his ravaged side.

"It's okay." Aedan pushed away Morrigan's hand. "What's done is done."

Alistair unwrapped bandages and raveled them around Aedan's arm. "Don't talk like that Aedan, you'll make it through this!"

"I…" Aedan coughed up thick red blood. He pushed the bandages away. "Not this time. Don't fuck up this country, alright buddy." Aedan's eyelid drooped.

Alistair shook his friend by the shoulders. "Aedan, stay awake!"

"The world doesn't need me," chuckled Aedan, "I did my job. I was supposed to die anyways."

"That's not true! There's so much more-"

"We did it guys. We killed the damn thing." Aedan looked over at his companions. Sten stood with glassy eyes. Oghren gripped his axe and clenched his jaw shut. Shale's hands fidgeted. Zevran smiled through the small tears that escaped him. Leliana wept, her head shaking. Wynne let the tears drip across her smile. The roll of bandages dropped from Alistair's shaking hands.

"Thank you, all of you. Truly, thank you." Aedan shed a single tear. "I enjoyed sitting by the fire next to you all."

Gregory whined at Aedan and nudged at his palm. Aedan placed it upon Gregory's head to give him one last rub. He scratched behind the mabari's ears. "It'll be okay, boy." Gregory howled, then tugged at Aedan. He licked at Aedan's face and whimpered. Aedan ruffled the dog's fur beneath his fingers. "It'll be okay."

Morrigan's magic sputtered. She reached for any spare lyrium vials she might have, but only empty ones clinked in her bags. Her hands trembled as their light waned. "I can still...I can still.."

Alistair pushed Morrigan towards Aedan, wiping aside his own tears. "I'm sure he'd want to talk to you one last time."

The witch knelt by her lover. Her hand reached for his. Her body shook. "You will not die." Aedan's icy cold fingers closed around Morrigan's. He stroked hers with his thumb. Tears welled up in Morrigan's eyes, but she clenched them shut as hard as she gripped Aedan. Words choked in her throat. "You will not die. I won't shed any tears for you, because you will get up, just like you always do." Aedan lips moved, but no sound left him. His head drooped. Morrigan shook him by the shoulder. Aedan murmured. Morrigan leaned her forehead against his. "Were you listening? I said you're not dying. I forbid it."

"Don't worry." The scarlet in his eye faded. Aedan placed his hand on Morrigan's back, rubbing up and down to calm her shaking body. "I'll always be with you, even if I'm gone."

Morrigan gripped his shoulders. Her final words came out only as a muffled sob. Aedan shivered. His icy hand felt for Morrigan's. Though sweaty, hot, and grimy, Aedan grasped it in his own. "It's okay." He brought her warm palm to his cheek. The heat spread across his chilled skin. Aedan pressed in further against it.

"I'm just going home."

Aedan smiled and closed his eye. His forehead slipped from Morrigan's, and he slumped to the side. Morrigan shook her head while holding her hands against Aedan's heart. The thumping beneath her hands halted. Her fingers clutched at his chest. She thrust her ear up against it, waiting for even a single heartbeat.


	70. Zero

Morrigan stoked the fire. She lurched over, then struggled over to a nearby tree. She leaned her arm against and heaved in and out. Morrigan held her stomach and moaned. While she leaned against the tree, she turned and scowled at an eruption of cheers from the next village over. She wandered further into the forest till the cheering was but a whisper. Each subsequent outburst of noise made Morrigan clench her staff till it shook.

Their country had been saved. Their families were safe. Of course they'd be cheering. In time they would sing songs of the Battle of Denerim, of how the mighty Warden had slain the Archdemon, but they would forget that blood and sacrifice, not glorious heroism, had secured their victory. She would listen to neither their vapid songs nor cheers. Not a single word had passed through her ears while she fled deep into the forest, where no one else was.

It was better this way. Why did she ever think she could coexist with them? People would always let you down. Her mother, who saw her as nothing more than a vessel. The Fereldens, who would no doubt jeer at a wild apostate even after she had helped save them all. Her companions, who tolerated her at the behest of one man. People at their core only ever did what they wanted. They wanted to survive, so she had been tolerated to walk amongst them for a time. Now they would want peace, and the presence of an apostate threatened that.

After gathering firewood, Morrigan sat over at her new fire. She looked beside her to see an empty space. She blinked, but the seat next to her remained empty. Morrigan wiped at her eyes. She leaned forward and cradled her head. Only a fool would believe that the world could be so kind, that one could blink their eyes and that which she had lost would return.

After all, Aedan Cousland was dead.

* * *

_Eamon pushed aside the onlookers. "Is he alright, is he-" Eamon halted at the sight of Aedan's head laying in Morrigan's lap. Her empty eyes stared down at the pale bloody corpse. Her hand still lay over his cold heart._

_"Maker, no." Eamon waved Irving over. "There has to be something we can do, some sort of healing-"_

_The king stood behind Morrigan, he too still staring at his friend. He clenched his fists. "His wounds won't- wouldn't- close," he croaked, "It's something...he did to himself. The price he paid for some weird power. He lured all the darkspawn in with it."_

_Wynne knelt down again and pressed two fingers against the vein on Aedan's neck. She rubbed her own eyes with the other. "No pulse or breathing for three minutes." Wynne shook her head at Irving. The Grand Enchanter turned to Eamon. "If Wynne cannot do anything, I am sorry. He is beyond our reach."_

_Morrigan stood back up and stared down at the body. Not even an hour ago, he was smiling at her, yet beneath her lay a bloodied corpse of a one-eyed man, leaking out onto the floor from his charred side. He had fought for all of them, and this was his reward._

_Morrigan placed her hand over her heart. She still heard his words in her ears. He had been speaking seconds earlier. The words of days past flashed through her. A phantom whispered in her ear, "I made you a promise didn't I, not too many days ago? That I'd make your days worth living? Definitely not going to end the day on a prank. That'd be rude."_

_Her chest twisted. Morrigan gasped for air._

_The voice quieted, then enveloped her. "We could get away from it all. Away from the Grey Wardens, away from Flemeth, away from everything. Just you, me, and our son- the three of us."_

_The witch covered her ears with her hands to block it all out, but the words kept pouring through her head. She clenched her eyes shut and bit down hard on her tongue, till blood pooled in her mouth, till the pain filled her head. The words faded. Morrigan knelt back down and grabbed Aedan's hand one last time. Her fingers wrapped around the ring she had given him. She slipped it off him and clutched in her hand. With her other hand she closed Aedan's remaining eye. She stood back up, stared down at the corpse, and backed away to the edge of the fort._

_Alistair stepped towards the witch. "Morrigan…" The witch backed off further, till her heels hovered off the edge. Light flashed in front of everyone there. A raven flew off into the distance._

_"She just needs to clear her head. She'll be back," said Wynne. She peered down off the tower's edge at the darkspawn fleeing the city. She sighed and brushed her hand over Aedan's heart once again._

_"What do you think, Alistair? Should we call it?"_

_Alistair swallowed as the words choked in his throat and the tears welled up in his eyes. "Aedan...would want us to use the magic for the other wounded." Wynne nodded, then stood back up and walked towards the other injured. Gregory curled up by Aedan's side, whimpering. Alistair tried to reach down and pet the mabari, but the creature snapped at him and growled. It licked at his master's face and nudged his limp head over and over._

_"Leave him," said Eamon. "He's a true Ferelden mabari...with his master till the bitter end."_

* * *

A cough rang through the forest. Morrigan narrowed her eyes, pausing for a moment to look around, then continuing on her desired path. The cough echoed again, louder this time. Whoever it was, they were straight ahead on Morrigan's path. The witch eyed the left and right paths of the forests, but the cough grew louder. She trudged ahead, hoping that whoever it was would cease their disturbance. Within a few moments however she found herself face to face with the source. A beleaguered man with a dirty, unkempt beard sat against a tree. She paused at the scent and tried not to gag. Yet despite his filthy clothing and lack of personal hygiene, the man looked up at Morrigan and gave her a bright smile with well-shaped teeth before coughing once again.

"Excuse me, you wouldn't know how to get out of here? Or have any food? Not quite used to navigating forests."

Morrigan ignored his comment and stared at the man. His eyes were brown like Aedan's.

"Please, help. I have to-"

The thought passed through her mind, that his face resembled Aedan's, but she scowled and shook her head. In her addled mind, a lump of soil would resemble him. She turned her back on the man, and the fallen leaves crinkled beneath each step. Morrigan stepped even louder on the leaves to block out the man's groaning.

"Please, even just some food."

If it were Aedan, the man would kneel down by the man's side, pull out his jerky, and hand it off to him. He'd smile, tell a quiet jest, then sit by the man in silence while he ate. He'd ask where he came from, where he was going, what was he doing so far out in the forest. Broad questions would soon turn inane, then he'd-

Despite moving further away, each cough echoed louder in her ears. Morrigan bit her tongue to clear her head once more. It didn't matter. This was not a kind world. She should accept that. She should know that. She should-

She glanced to the right to avoid the gaze of the man. The witch paused, sighed, but turned around at the man. He crooked his head down to peer at her eyes, but her gaze bore into the ground and her bangs obscured her face. Morrigan walked over, produced jerky from her pack, and lay the meat in the man's hand. His breathing quickened and he licked his dry lips, but jerky slipped from his quivering grip into the soil below. He grasped at it despite this, and heaved the jerky into his mouth. The man chewed as slow as a grazing druffalo. He shivered while cold sweat dripped down his face. Each time he swallowed, he coughed. He leaned his head back against the tree. "Sorry, I'm just not feeling that good. Something bit me in the forest...I'm feeling a little woozy."

"What bit you? Where?"

"A snake. My arm." He shuffled in place, but still managed to flop his arm over. A red, swollen wound with two fang marks throbbed. Morrigan peered at the wound.

"The color."

"I don't remember."

"Guess."

"Brown...with black stripes I believe."

Morrigan reached into her pack and rifled around through the vials. She handed one to the man, but glanced at his shaking hand. She uncorked the vial and brought it to his mouth.

"Drink. It will break apart the poison in your system."

The man sputtered as the mixture slogged down his throat. "You know what to give me based on the color of the snake?"

"There are no brown snakes with black stripes in this area. This is just an all purpose anti-venom."

She brought her hands above the snake wound, which glowed with a light green aura. The venom sifted out of the wound and swirled in the air.

The man raised his eyebrows. "A mage. Are you from the Circle?"

"The more questions you ask, the more I reconsider leaving you here."

A laugh escaped his lips. "I'll trouble you no more. You have given me food, and helped my wounds. A man should be able to take care of the rest."

"Where are you headed?"

"Denerim."

Her chest panged again. She could hear Aedan's laugh in her ear, chiding her as she looked down upon the pale, dirty man. Morrigan sat back down. She handed the man another piece of jerky.

"You will not make it by yourself."

The man's face alit. "Thank you-"

Morrigan whipped her gaze at him. "Speak, and I will leave you." The man opened his mouth, but Morrigan raised an eyebrow. He nodded, then slumped his head back against the tree.

* * *

"Let us conclude by remembering...each and everyone one of the fallen... each and everyone who fought for our safety...is a hero. Never forget that."

The massive crowd before him outside the gates of Denerim began to disperse. Alistair stepped down from the podium and into the nearby group of guards. Ser Cauthrien surveyed the surrounding area, then gave a wave for the guardsmen to proceed along with Alistair. "Is all this really necessary?" Alistair asked as each of the guardsmen covered a different side of him.

Ser Cauthrien parted away the commoners who flocked towards them. "Looters and other criminals scurry about the broken city, your highness. We can't take the risk of losing you. I won't...not after all that we've sacrificed to get you here."

Alistair nodded. The group walked in silence across the battered Market District. Makeshift stalls had opened, but only the food vendors. Their lines stretched through the alleyways. The group weaved through an intersection of two such lines.

The armies had dissipated to their homes. Dwarves back to Orzammar, the Dalish back to their clans, and the mages back to the Tower. No matter how broken Denerim was now, the Blight had touched each and every corner of Ferelden. Alistair did not blame them for leaving. At least a majority of the Ferelden army still remained. Some had gone back to their own villages, but many hailed from Denerim. Soldiers now became make-shift construction workers, eager to restore their broken home.

Alistair and the guardsmen rounded the corner towards the steps of the palace district. A makeshift tent protected Anora and the nobles beneath from the hazy sun. They chattered about a map of the city, where several stones indicating the intact army units were placed all around. Anora pointed to the north-eastern region of the map. "The marketplace and the docks take top priority. Food and commerce needs to be restored as soon as possible. As the farmlands still need time to recover, trade will be our only option. We must have goods valuable enough to trade with other countries if we are to survive."

"But the palace district- what of our homes?"

Anora glared at the Arl. "I have spared all I can to help with the basic repairs. Food and commerce must take priority, I'm sorry. Anything else you must fund yourselves."

Once the grumbling nobles had dispersed, Alistair leaned over the map and peered down at the empty section of the Alienage below. "How goes the clean-up in the Alienage? No units on there."

"Bad, Alistair. The buildings were already in disrepair before. The darkspawn certainly didn't help."

"We can send some construction crews by to help out with the repairs there, right?"

"Unfortunately, we have to prioritize. We can't start off our rule by ignoring the very people who put us in power. Any spare construction crews will need to be allocated to the nobles of Denerim first." Just as Alistair opened his mouth, Anora raised her hand and interrupted. "I don't like it anymore than you, especially considering the majority of refugees are from the Alienage. Refugees set free in a broken city means looting, thieving, and possibly worse."

Alistair opened his mouth yet again, but Anora shot her hand out and placed it over his mouth. She glanced over at the leaving nobles, them whispered, "You know, I think there may be some remaining Grey Warden business to attend to in the Alienage. Top secret of course. Take some strong protection as well." She felt a grin form beneath her hand.

"Guess I'll just have to stop by there."

* * *

Alistair stood in front of a group of Redcliffe knights and his companions by the remains of the Alienage townsquare. "So, here's the deal. Technically we're not supposed to be here." He clapped his hands together and pointed over by the main gates. "So if any guardsmen or humans come by, pretend like you're dragging corpses around."

Two elves burning a funeral pyre glared at Alistair. The king covered his mortified face with both hands. "Usually I have a friend around who shuts me up before I say something stupid."

Zevran waved at a young elf maiden nearby, then widened his eyes as more emptied into the streets and waved back at him. "All of a sudden, killing the archdemon definitely feels worth it."

"Less talking, elf, and more lifting." Sten heaved a support beam up into his arms and carried it over to a fallen building. Leliana and Zevran lifted another support beam on opposite ends and carried it over to the same building. Oghren, being of too little stature to help prop up the support beams, instead cleared the rubble. Next to it, Wynne attended to the wounded underneath a ragged medical tent. Alistair pushed aside the flaps to see the many injured. Some simply sat on the ground, nursing flesh wounds and broken limbs. Others writhed upon the beds as soldiers and mages alike tried to ease their pain.

While Alistair peered over at Wynne's patient, the elderly mage said, "You really do need to learn to watch your mouth. A king must have tact."

"Didn't I just give a big speech? I've done enough tactful speaking for the day."

"I did enjoy it."

"Wasn't that great."

"Aedan would have liked it."

"Too mournful for his taste."

"Not that. He would have liked to have seen you taking charge."

Alistair smiled and scratched at the back of his neck. "Well, speaking of which, I have another matter to attend to."

"Ah, yes." Wynne handed Alistair a bottle of clear liquid. "A cleanser, to clean your hands off the corpses. You may be immune to the taint, but other diseases could very well take you as well. Do exercise  _some_ hygiene."

Alistair waved goodbye to Wynne and the others. As he passed by the Alienage tree, he stared down at the scorch marks and dried blood surrounding it. He pulled his cloak back over his head and proceeded further into the slums of the Alienage. Rubble of buildings demolished by ogres littered the ground of the former slums. Even the Alienage elves had deprioritized the reconstruction of this area. The darkspawn had struck here first, feasting upon the homeless and the particularly lower class elves. Corpses lined the streets, all of them staring blankly into the sky.

The Blight had infected many of the dead bodies. Though the darkspawn army had fled back underground, the vestiges still remained. Alistair stepped over the corpses of a hurlock and genlock. Luckily, the lands themselves had not become blighted, but the bodies still held a risk for all those around. Of course, they couldn't just set blaze to Denerim to destroy the bodies. This city, the birthplace of Andraste couldn't be treated like that.

Alistair blocked the sun beating down him with his hand, and peered at the smoke column rising a block away. He heaved a dead body over his shoulder, then trekked to the source of the smoke. Until the rest of the Grey Wardens arrived to help clean up, only a Grey Warden could move the bodies, or somebody immune to the taint like Shale.

Various darkspawn corpses smoldered all about, each lending a small smoke trail into the sky. A massive pyre blazed with bodies of human, dwarf, and elf. Countless corpses with blotched skin and dead eyes soon burnt to ash. Alistair tied a cloth bandana around his mouth, then another about the top of his head. He peered around for anyone else. Just as he heaved the corpse he had brought into the pyre, a shriek from Shale echoed from behind a massive pile of corpses that obscured even the golem. The ground shook as Shale stampeded over to Alistair, followed by a cavalcade of birds.

"What torture is this, forcing me to work with the corpses, where birds come to feast upon them!" The golem swiped at a horde of ravens that circled about her head. She roared as three of them perched upon her shoulders, their beaks dripping with corpse flesh. "It can deal with him! I am done!" The golem threw its arms into the air and marched off towards the Alienage. A lone figure walked out from behind corpse pile, carrying a corpse on each of his shoulders. His face mask and bandana obscured his face, but Alistair could tell the man scrunched his nose beneath. Two brown eyes stared back at Alistair as the two nodded in greeting.

"Guess it's just you and me then, huh?" came the man's muffled voice.

"I have to head back in a bit. Thought I'd bring you some cleanser." Alistair tossed him the bottle of cleanser Wynne had given him. The other man uncorked the bottle, dabbed several drops into his hands, then rubbed them together. The scent wafted up and stung at the man's eyes, both of which blinked rapidly. Alistair blinked as well as the chemical stung his eyes. Each time he blinked, the man before him still remained. Alistair smiled.

The other man removed his face mask and gagged. "Figures I still get stuck with the shit job, even after killing an Archdemon," grumbled Aedan.


	71. Remainder

The bearded man peered through the clearing of trees towards the battered city walls. "So...Denerim." He turned back around to the witch. The shadows of the above trees, bursting with orange fall leaves, shrouded her in darkness. Her foot raised to take a step, but retreated back. The man noticed the distance between him and the witch, and nodded. "Thank you for taking me this far. I can certainly take it from here."

Over the past week, color had begun to return to the man's face, and the gaunt edges of his face had softened. Now when he claimed he could make it on his own, Morrigan could actually believe him. She looked away from the man and the city, back into the forest. "What did I say about speaking?"

"If I did not have the common courtesy to thank the woman who saved my life, then I'd rather die."

The witch scoffed. "Such manners. So what business does a man like you have here? There are enough beggars lining the streets of Denerim."

The man paused, his teeth clenched. "My family died. Here...here is the first step to getting back what I lost. The man who killed my family lives here."

"You're going to kill him?"

"I'm going to look him in the eyes and ask him if why he did it...and then...I don't know. I have to do something. Take a step forward to regaining my life. If I could get a semblance of it back, just one piece, maybe...things will get better." The man rubbed his face in frustration and tugged on his beard. "The wound still feels as fresh as the day I learnt of their death...I just want closure."

"Closure." Morrigan mulled the word over in her mouth. She fidgeted with the two rings upon her left hand: one from her to Aedan, another from him to her.

The man took a deep breath, staring back out at the city again. He stood there in the same place as the morning sun rose higher. "Enough about me. Is there anything I can do to repay you? In time, I will have enough to repay with you with anything you wish."

"I require nothing."

"You are too kind. A real hero."

Morrigan let out a small, tired laugh. "If you really knew me, you'd know I'm not a hero."

"You did something good without asking for a thing in return." The man smiled at Morrigan.

The witch scowled. "Then I shall ask for something in return. I'm not a fan of the title." Morrigan pulled off the ring she had taken from Aedan. She fiddled with the rosewood ring in her fingers.

"Somewhere in this city they'll have a memorial for the man this ring belonged to. Please bury it there."

Morrigan held the ring out over the man's hand. Her hand gripped it tight. She could reconfigure it, perhaps give it to child inside of her one day to track him. It was only practical. Despite her thoughts, her hands loosened.

"What was his name?"

"I don't think the masses would even know his name. They only ever called him the Warden. The man who slew the Archdemon." Morrigan remembered the name Leliana had spoke. She smiled, clutched the ring one last time, and placed it in the other man's hand.

"The Hero of Ferelden."

* * *

"Aedan, wake up! Wynne's here!"

Aedan cracked his eyes open. The sunlight poured in through the hole in the ceiling and glared in his face. "Gotta fix this thing at some point," he said as he rolled over in bed. He moved his arm over to the other side of the bed and patted it down. His fingers clutched at the sheets laying on the empty space. He sighed while patting down his side table. His hands found nothing. Aedan grumbled and sat up in the bed. "Just tell her to come in my room," he shouted to beyond the room.

A knock resounded against the door.

"Come in. Doorknob's still broken."

Wynne creaked the door open, carrying a small bag of goods in the other arm. She nodded up at the ceiling. "I see the hole the darkspawn put in still isn't fixed. You know that if you sleep without proper heat, you could get sick."

"Half of the estate is smashed to bits, I think that hole is the least of my concerns." Aedan sat up in the bed and stretched his arms. "Besides, if it's not an Archdemon, it's not going to kill me."

"Maker, am I going to have to listen to that joke till the end of my days?" Wynne reached into the bag and began arranging several vials atop the nearby table.

"Didn't we do a checkup two days ago? Nothing's going to have changed."

"Shirt off."

"Wow, Morrigan just left, Wynne, you sure move fas-" Aedan yelped as Wynne poked into his pinkish, warped left side with a needle. Bits of flesh stuck to the needle's edge.

"Still not quite healing like the rest of you?"

Aedan winced and rubbed his side. Though the rest of his body had healed relatively nicely, the left side he had sealed with his burning sword remained heavily scarred from the burns and cuts. "Hurts as bad as it looks, yes."

"Well, the wound is closed. That much we can be thankful for." She held the needle that had pricked Aedan and waved her fingers over it. The needle pulsed blue, then green. "Still no infection- that's what I was worried the most about, especially considering your makeshift cauterization. That's a relief. If there's one good thing about Grey Wardens, it's that the taint tends to kill most infections." Wynne sat down in front of Aedan, pulled at the eyelids of his left eye, then leaned in to examine closer. "How's the eye?"

"Vision's still blurry."

Wynne stood back up and paced to the other side of the room. Aedan covered his right eye. The other eye, once gouged out by a pike, blinked back at Wynne perfectly intact. She held up two fingers. Aedan scratched at his head and squinted with the one eye. "Four?"

"Two."

The man rubbed at his eye and clicked his tongue under his breath. "We checked this last time, like I said, nothing's going to change in two days."

"Considering the circumstances, I thought that might not have been the case...however it seems the eye will take some time to readjust to light, considering most of it had been gouged out."

Wynne held a loaf of bread out at Aedan. "And the stomach?" Aedan gagged and held his stomach. Wynne widened her eyes at the churning that filled the room. He pushed the bread back to her.

"Sorry, tried eating bread yesterday. Spent the next hour over the bucket. Only thing that seems to stay down is that nutrition mix Avernus shipped over." Aedan opened up a drawer and pulled out a jar filled with a soil-like substance. He scooped out a spoonful, mixed it into a glass of water, took a deep breath, and downed it all. He held his hand over his mouth and struggled to keep the mixture down. "Maker, I wish I hadn't gotten my sense of taste back, because this literally tastes like dirt." Aedan wiped his mouth of the last remaining sludgy particles of the drink. "How much longer till I can actually eat things?"

"I don't know." Wynne poured a glass of water, then held it in her hand while it glowed with heat. She handed the warm glass to Aedan, who downed the liquid. "Judging by the progress in your eye, your gut will need similarly take time to readjust to food. Most of your stomach had been destroyed, and growing back the majority of the tissue means it's brand new. It could take a year, maybe two, almost like a newborn"

Aedan pulled his shirt back onto him and laughed. "Are you telling me I have to eat baby food for the foreseeable future?"

Wynne reached for the bag and rummaged about inside. "I did bring some mushed up carrots."

"Tell me you're joking."

Wynne pulled out a jar of orange mush from her basket and held it out. The warden narrowed his eyes and grabbed the jar from Wynne. "You need fiber, not just that nutrient mix. I'm going to suggest this until you can eat the non-solids without any sort of stomach pain. We can gradually reintroduce other foods into your system over time...well, perhaps just you."

"Sick of me already, Wynne?"

"You've given me enough trouble for one lifetime. The Circle however needs me to help rebuild. Irving has asked that I be the ambassador to Tevinter for the time being. Despite the Chantry's stance on them, we'll need all the resources we can to help rebuild." Wynne smiled. "Shale has expressed an interest in coming with me as well...to become a dwarf again."

Aedan raised an eyebrow. "Really? I'll have to tease her about that later."

"Hush, you, or you might make her change her mind."

"Hope all goes well with that."

Wynne got back up and began to gather her things back into her bag. "And how are...you?"

"Didn't we just have a medical checkup?"

"I mean you. How are … you? We haven't had a good chance to talk about you amidst all the chaos of rebuilding."

"I'm alive, aren't I?"

"And how about Morrigan? Have you heard from her?"

"Not a peep. She's gone."

"Did you know she was going to leave?"

"Yes. She said she had other duties." Aedan rubbed the back of his neck and half-laughed, half-sighed. His shoulder slumped forward. "Technically I do too. Doubt the Wardens are going to let me go." He leaned backwards as he sat, resting on his palms, as he stared back up into the hole in his ceiling.

Wynne sat down next to Aedan, leaned in, and hugged him from the side.

"I'm fine, Wynne, really."

"Let an old woman give her dear friend a hug."

Aedan smiled and wrapped his arm around her as well.

* * *

By the time he and Wynne had finished his checkup, most of the other inhabitants of his house had left. His companions now handled cleanup in the Alienage, while Eamon's men handled reconstruction elsewhere. While his house had been half-demolished, half a house was still more than most others nearby. All his companions, save for Alistair, now resided within. Several of the Redcliffe knights and army soldiers also bunked in the remaining rooms. Even Hijaya, whose apartment had been demolished by the darkspawn, had brought along her entire family and crammed into the remaining space.

Aedan sat alone at the kitchen table. He looked at the seat beside him, staring at it for a good minute. He shut his eyes, gripped his spoon harder, then scooped more mushy carrots into his mouth. Hijaya huffed as she carried out another pot of soup. The pot slammed down against the kitchen table.

"You know all the soldiers and my companions are gone for the day?" remarked Aedan. "Don't need to keep cooking."

"There's a feast tonight, don't tell me you forgot? Everyone has to do their part."

"Haven't really been involved with Anora's planning. Too busy with the corpses." Aedan swirled his spoon while looking down into the carrot mixture. "Shouldn't we be trying to conserve food?"

Hijaya rolled her eyes, scooped up a cup of water, and poured it into the soup pot. "Happy?"

Aedan took a small spoon and ladled a few drops into his mouth. His stomach churned in pain, but a savoury, albeit watered-down, taste lingered on the tip of his tongue. He gave the elf a thumbs up. Hijaya dipped her own finger into the soup, then licked her finger. She made a sour expression and rolled her eyes. "It'll do."

For a brief second, Hijaya's expression reminded him of Nan, cooking him food whilst he sat at the kitchen table. The old nurse always used to chide him when he wasn't satisfied with her cooking. Hijaya glanced at Aedan's spoon. "Are you eating baby food?"

"No. Special warden rations."

The elf covered her mouth to stifle her laugh. "That looks exactly like little Teharel's old baby food."

Aedan shoveled the rest of the mushed up carrots into his mouth and tossed the jar into the sink. " _Special warden rations_ ," he said, throwing his arms in the air.

"Someone's grumpy. Does someone need his blanky and a nap nap?"

"This is not going to become a thing, absolutely not." Aedan scrubbed the jar with a old wash cloth, along with the other remaining dishes inside of the sink. After racking the dishes onto the drying rack, Aedan put on his coat and headed towards the front door. He opened the door to find a horde of people occupying his front lawn. Their eyes lit up as they saw him in the doorway.

"That's him!"

"The Hero of Ferelden!"

The guardsmen in front of the door pushed back the screaming crowds as Aedan slammed the door shut. "I'm going to kill Leliana," muttered Aedan as he pulled on the hooded cloak he had carried over the past year. Aedan donned the cloak and climbed out a hole in the back of the house. Outside a hooded Alistair awaited. The other man tossed Aedan a wave and a grin.

"Took you long enough."

"You'd have thought becoming beloved by a nation would mean we could lose the hooded cloaks." Aedan glanced at the front of the estate and guards fending off the crowds. Word of mouth had travelled throughout the city that their savior still lived among them. At first there had only been the occasional straggler, trying to get a peek of him as he came out, but then the more Aedan had attempted to seclude himself from the public eye, the more they attempted to catch a glimpse of him or meet him. Now it had become a pastime in the city to attempt to spot the Hero of Ferelden. Most however did not expect that he would have taken up the responsibilities of disposing of the corpses. Even those that did guess could not enter the Blight-infested area of Denerim.

The two looped behind the Cousland estate towards the back alleys of the Market District, ducking behind the ruined shops and broken homes. In about a half hour the two arrived at the latest cleanup location- the gates of Fort Drakon. The darkspawn, and their victims, were particularly dense here, so the taint had lingered so much so that soldiers couldn't clean it. Broken steel and pools of dried blood littered the ground.

As they made their way up the fort towards the rooftop, Aedan's heart raced. His right hand fidgeted for his sword, and sweat ran down his neck. When they entered the room that led up to the rooftop, the thundering smash of ogre blows still echoed in his ears. He stood right before the staircase, and for the briefest moment paused in place. She had stood here, cradling his broken pinky. That final moment of peace before the end of it all. Aedan cradled his pinky in his own hand as he began to move again.

They opened the gate doors. The silence as they did so unnerved him. The piercing shriek of the Archdemon lingered in his thoughts. As he walked towards the dragon's corpse, Aedan looked at a pile of smashed, broken darkspawn, all gathered about in a circle. Alistair pointed at the pile and chuckled. "Still can't believe you literally crushed them beneath your feet to kill them, like bugs."

"What can I say, leg training is important." He rubbed his left eye and ground his feet into the ground.

The two chuckled together, then turned towards the day's work: the corpse of the Archdemon. Alistair kicked at its limp claw, rolling it over. He knelt down and examined it's scales. "The corpse hasn't even begun to rot."

Aedan took a big whiff in. He grimaced and looked at all the darkspawn corpses about. "The taint is particularly strong in this area. Probably killing even the decomposing agents here." The veins on his arm instinctively darkened in response to the taint in the air, and he could feel Avernus's mixture surged through his vein for a moment. Aedan clenched his fists right, and the burning in his veins subsided.

Aedan glanced down at the creature's teeth. A bloodied stain soaked into one of its teeth. Aedan held his side as it throbbed. His head pounded as he felt the creature's jaws closing in on him, despite it laying dead before him. Aedan gulped. He blinked once, and he was back there, half his vision gone, his heart pounding in his chest, his innards burning up, the roar of the Archdemon shaking the ground itself. He blinked again, and he saw blue skies and Alistair peering back up at him."You okay?" asked his friend.

Aedan wiped aside the sweat from his brow. "Yeah." Aedan uncorked a vial, and drew out his sword. "Let's get to work." He sliced his sword against the archdemon's wrist, and held the wrist over a wooden funnel. The blood trickled down into the vial below. As each vial filled up, Alistair corked them up and wrapped them in thick wool to protect the glass.

Though the Fifth Blight had ended, the Sixth and Seventh still loomed in the future. The world would still need Wardens, long after Aedan had passed, and for that they would need the blood of the Archdemon. How many years would it be till the next Blight? A thousand? A hundred? They would need a steady supply of Archdemon blood to create a steady supply of Wardens.

"In peace, vigilance," murmured Aedan. Once the blood flow from the creature's wrist halted, Aedan dropped the creature's limb to the ground and groaned whilst rolling his shoulder. The arrow wounds, though closed now, still ached. "You're holding up the next limb."

"Gimme a sec to secure the vials. Don't want them rolling off the rooftop."

Aedan walked over to a particularly large bloodstain by the wall of the tower. He gazed down at the faint outline of a man laying down. He sat down next to the blood stain, leaning against the wall.

"Hope you're not planning on taking another nap." Alistair heaved down next to his friend. "You ad us worried sick last time."

"No...the body's still a little achy." Aedan let his head fall back against the wall. He rummaged about for his water flask and took a long sip from it. He passed it to Alistair, who squeezed a stream into his own mouth.

"How long was I out for?" asked Aedan whilst Alistair guzzled down the water.

The other warden sealed the flask. "About five minutes...then...you know." Alistair gestured at Aedan's eye and side.

"Huh. Definitely felt longer."

Alistair grinned and turned to his friend. "So you did see something."

"I didn't say that."

"Come on, I gotta know. Never known about who died but came back to life."

"Not unheard of. There's been cases where people drowned, and then got resuscitated." Aedan took another sip. He fidgeted with the flask in his hand. "Besides, I didn't die. Just very close."

"Come on, tell me."

"Maybe the next time I'm drunk." Aedan took the water flask back and took one last sip.

"That's not fair."

Aedan laughed and hoisted himself back up. A horn blew out into the air. Aedan and Alistair leaned over the edge of the fort to see a blue banner streaming in the air, a magnificent grey gryphon stitched into the fabric. A legion of fully-clad Grey Wardens trotted forward on their horses towards the entrance. When the group had finally ascended, they found Aedan and Alistair idling by the Archdemon's corpse.

"Sorry, Blight's over. Sorry to waste your time with that trip," said Alistair, who leaned against the archdemon's corpse and yawned.

"Are we finally getting paid now?" said Aedan whilst he picked at his nails. The lead warden, clad in chainmail and a mage's garb, stepped forward. She handed her staff off to one of the other wardens. "Riordan's report did not mention how glib you two were."

Aedan rose to greet the woman. "We did kill an Archdemon without you guys. I think we get a couple glib comments."

"Fair enough." The mage gave Aedan and Alistair a bow each. "The Hero of Ferelden and the King of Ferelden. Impressive titles for two fresh recruits."

Aedan turned to Alistair. "I don't think we smell very fresh."

Alistair raised his armpit towards his nose. "We smell like wet dog."

The mage crossed her arms. "How did you two get anything done if all you did was joke like this?"

"We're good at multitasking."

She shook her head and smiled. "I would have a word with Aedan and Alistair alone." She motioned the wardens behind her with a quick wave. "Recruits, please take over the cleanup duties. I believe these two men have earned a bit of rest."

As the other wardens shuffled and spread out from behind her, the mage approached the two Ferelden wardens and offered her hand out. "Introductions are in order. Warden-Constable Clarel. The Warden-Commander would have come, but the politics of Orlais have tied him up for now. Truth be told, we had been prepared for the worst case scenario of the Blight marching across our southern borders."

Aedan and Alistair both shook Clarel's hand. "Lucky you, I guess," said Aedan. "Wasn't a particularly pleasant experience."

"Yes, except we called in many favors to prepare an army to face the Blight. Now we must consider terms, seeing as how we did not even have a chance to use the armies."

Alistair shrugged. "Sorry about that."

Clarel laughed. "I do not think you need to apologize for sparing Orlais from the ravages of the Blight." She beckoned over back inside the fort. "Come. The sun is bright and the smell of blood is strong out here."

The three found a spare room, flipped back over the overturned table, and dragged the darkspawn corpses out. Aedan dusted off a nearby set of chairs and dragged them over. He and Alistair sat on the one side. Clarel motioned to a nearby scribe, who pulled out a pen and paper. "We had Riordan's preliminary report about your survival and the Landsmeet, but much of your journey is still unknown to us."

"Please report from the beginning the events that took place. As much detail as you can, but leave out what you think is unnecessary."

So Aedan and Alistair, perhaps for the first time since their journey had begun, described the entirety of the Fifth Blight. As he spoke the tales of ancient golems, abominations, and werewolves, Aedan rubbed at his scars. At the time, he could have never imagined the Blight as the past tense, yet here he was now describing it as such. He wondered if Clarel even believed half the things he said, though Aedan spoke no lies.

"Tis hard to imagined mere recruits could accomplish such a tale, but yet here you are. Frankly, it is quite...inspiring." Clarel shifted in place, then waved off the Wardens surrounding her. She leaned forward on her elbows, her chin resting upon her clasped hands. Her brow furrowed. "Even more inspiring to hear that you lived after slaying the Archdemon."

Aedan's smile faded. "So you're not just here for cleanup."

"I assume the two of you know what was supposed to happen, as Riordan would have told you before the final battle."

The two men glanced at one another. "Yes. We knew."

"If you had failed in your task, the Archdemon would have risen in mere hours, and the darkspawn would not have fled back underground. The creature is dead, of this we have no doubt. So the question is-"

"Yeah, I get it." Aedan looked down into his lap. He paused and wrung his hands. "There was a mage who traveled with me. She figured out some way to keep it from killing me. We were...close."

"Were?"

"She left after the battle. I doubt you'll be able to find her. Haven't seen her at all."

"I see. Are you sure that's all you can tell us?"

"I'm sorry. I don't understand the magic that went behind it. I just swing my sword."

Clarel grimaced. "Even for all the secrets we keep regarding the Blight, there are things even we do not know about. Tis a shame. Final order of business then." She pulled out a scroll and handed the scroll and a signet ring to Aedan.

Aedan scanned the unfurled document. He raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious?"

Alistair leaned in to peek at the letter. He grinned and slapped his friend on the back. "Congrats, buddy."

Clarel nodded. "From the First-Warden himself. Considering that all the Ferelden Grey Wardens died, Alistair is taking the throne, and your importance to the people of Ferelden, it was only logical. Don't be so surprised." Clarel reached across the table to give Aedan a hearty handshake. "Congratulations."

Aedan held out his empty left ring finger, where once Morrigan's ring resided. "You know,  _now_ it's ridiculous I haven't gotten paid yet," said Aedan as he slipped the signet ring on his right middle finger.

* * *

While the sun's final rays dimmed through the window, Aedan slumped down in his chair back at the Cousland estate, and looked over the letter from the First Warden. His eyes hovered over the last line.

_I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors as the Warden-Commander._

Aedan grimaced and slouched down further in his chair.

"One would think you would be more excited for your promotion, Warden-Commander."

Aedan pushed himself back up to a proper seated position. Avernus stood in the open doorway.

"I was already in charge of saving the entirety of Ferelden, now it's just in writing." The new warden-commander scratched at his chin. "Does this technically mean I get to order you around?"

"I don't take orders from dead men, which you should be." Avernus dragged his finger across the nearby cupboard, and scowled at the debris and dust upon his fingertip. "Could you have at least cleaned before I arrived? All this dust isn't good for me."

"Good to see you too, Avernus."

"Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised you've cheated even the Archdemon, though now you've cheated me out of my promised bone marrow."

"Forgot I promised you my corpse." Aedan shrugged. "Sorry."

"Well, no use crying about it now. Wynne mentioned you wished to talk to me in private."

"Yes, well, something's happened."

"Many things have happened in such a short time period, you'll have to be more specific."

Aedan unsheathed his sword, then gently drew it across his arm. A small cut welled up and blood trickled down his arm.

"I wanted your bone marrow, not your blood, but sure, a blood sample would be nice-"

"Watch."

Aedan shut his eyes, and let his tainted ability activate. His veins darkened and the whites of his eyes filled with blood. Avernus broke into a cough as he breathed in the tainted air about him. As Avernus looked up from his coughing, the cut on Aedan's arm began to mend itself before his eyes. The elder mage zipped forward faster than Aedan had even seen him move. He peered in at the mending wound, his eyes alit.

"Once more."

Aedan sliced his arm once again while Avernus watched closely. The mage's hands hovered over Aedan's wound, slight fluctuations of light shimmering from his fingers. Avernus murmured beneath his breath, his eyes darting from the wound, back to his own glowing hands.

"Now that is something." The mage grinned from cheek to cheek. "I assume this has something to do with your survival."

"I was laying dead, with my stomach spilling out, my organs half-dissolved from the acid, and my eye gouged out. Next thing I know, my side is closed up, my organs have regenerated, and I have a new eye." Aedan lifted his shirt to reveal the discolored, warped flesh by his left side. "I cauterized the wound at first. The ability didn't completely heal the burn wounds, I'm guessing because I partially closed it beforehand."

"I'm going to go ahead and take credit for this, so you're welcome." Avernus smirked and poked at Aedan's wound. "Absolutely fascinating."

"I want to know  _why_. This entire time your ability stopped my wounds from being closed. Now all of a sudden it reverses."

Avernus paced the room, drumming his fingers against his cheek. "Several theories. Perhaps the healing magic applied to you over the months that was suppressed by your ability had been stored and is now taking effect? No no no, then I'd be able to sense the presence of magic." He halted, then approached Aedan again and raised his arm up to the lingering candlelight. "When did the process begin?"

"Five minutes after death."

"So your heart had stopped? That probably rules out a stress-induced change, and you've had similarly taxing battles. Perhaps this was simply the way the mixture was always meant to work, and the reset of death triggered the change." Avernus scratched at his chin. "There is always a cause and effect. We know the effect…" Avernus glanced at Aedan. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself. "I think I am rather tired from my travels today. Being over a century old will do that to you."

"Not even going to inquire more about the cause? Doesn't seem like you at all."

The mage chuckled and shook his head. "I am interested in reproducible results. In concrete research and development of science and magic. The mixture in your blood is the sum of a hundred years of trial and error and the sacrifice of lives. I do not think I'll live long enough to reproduce it, especially not with the restrictions of my research you levied upon me...so as for the cause, I've lived long enough to know that some things are best unsaid." The mage sighed and creaked down into a chair. "But I'm not lying when I tell you I'm tired."

Aedan laughed and stretched his arms out. "I get what you mean. Wish everyone would stop bothering me so I could just have a nice res-"

A loud barrage of muffled shouting echoed through the room, all the way from the entrance. Aedan lifted himself out of his chair and trudged out the back door. He peered over at the crowd, still amassed outside his main door. By now, most of the nobles and beggars alike had left, and the crowd was merely passerbys watching three guards tousle with a homeless man.

Aedan walked up behind the guards. "What the hell is going on here? I'm trying to have a meeting here."

The guardsmen turned to Aedan and gave a small bow. "Sorry sir, apart from the usual crowd camping outside your doorstep, now we've got some sort of vagrant claiming the estate as his."

Three other guardsmen held back someone. "Get out of here," growled one, who gave a shove forwards, "This is the Hero of Ferelden's estate. Be glad he saved your ass."

"I told you, I'm the rightful heir to this estate!" Dirty hands with long nails reached out passed the guards, but the three men held back the single beggar.

"Yeah, and I'm the queen of Antiva," scowled another guard.

The man behind the guards rammed into them once again. His head bobbed into Aedan's sight, though most of the face was obscured by grimy facial hair. "My name is-"

Aedan's eyes widened at the voice. His mouth went dry. He pushed aside the guards and stared at the man in front of him. Baggy, tattered clothing clung to the beleaguered man, who had been pushed down upon the ground. The man's beard reached his chest, and he smelled of mud and swamp. His sweat drenched clothes clung to his haggard figure. Aedan looked the man straight in the eyes, and the world stopped.

Aedan reached his hand out, pulled the man up by the hand, and grasped the man by the shoulders. "Fergus?"

The bearded man's mouth fell agape. "Aedan?"

The two stared at each, not speaking for what seemed like an eternity. Aedan's hands gripped his brother's shoulders even harder. His hands trembled. Aedan could only croak, "You look like shit, brother."

Fergus smiled back as his eyes welled up. "Look who's talking."

Aedan and Fergus Cousland paused, then bear-hugged one another, the laughter sputtering out through their tears.


	72. Goodbye

"To be honest, it's a little hard to believe my little brother did all this." Fergus closed his eyes as the barber rinsed the shaving soap off his face. Aedan grimaced at the gaunt face revealed beneath.

While Fergus had sat getting a haircut and a trim, Aedan had sat down to describe his story once again. Unlike with Clarel, he did not have to cover every detail of the battles he had faced, and instead rushed to his last few months in Denerim. Fergus had gripped the side of his chair as Aedan had described the events at the Arl of Denerim's estate, and his return to Highever. The barber had stopped, for Fergus trembled beneath the razor blade. Fergus had muttered a 'Thank you', when Aedan had described how his companions gave the bodies of the Cousland family proper rites. After a minute, he had calmed down and nodded at the barber to finish the job.

"We need to get food in you, Fergus. I wasn't kidding when I said you look like shit." After the barber dusted off Fergus and his surrounding neckline with a towel, Aedan handed his brother a loaf of bread. Fergus ripped off a piece and crammed it into his mouth.

"That bad?" asked the freshly shaven man after he had finished chewing. He stuffed the remaining loaf into his mouth.

"Not terrible. At least you lost that beer belly you were always complaining about." Aedan shook his head and grinned. "I still can't believe this. Where have you been the past year and a half?"

Fergus held up his finger while he finished his bread.

"Do you still need me here?" asked the barber.

Aedan rolled his eyes at Fergus. "No, I wouldn't stick around for this, he's always chewed too slowly."

"It's called-" Fergus swallowed the last piece of his bread, cleared his throat, then spoke again. "It's called manners. Something you were always a little light on."

"Oh come on, I asked a question, and you always chew so slowly."

After the barber had packed up his things and left, Fergus sat down in the chair next to his brother. Aedan passed his beleaguered brother another tray of food. Despite his earlier claims of manners, Fergus salivated as he gazed upon the warm meal. His eyes lingered on the steaming pork chop. Aedan's stomach growled as he watched Fergus take his first few bites. Fergus took his napkin, dabbed at the corners of his mouth, and began his tale:

"Right before the Battle of Ostagar, darkspawn ambushed my troop. They killed everyone save for me. I escaped, but the monsters wounded me: broken bones, stab wounds, all that fun stuff. After that, roaming Chasind found me, half-dead and delirious. I must have caught a disease in the swamp. That, coupled with my existing injuries, left me bed stricken for months on end. Sometimes they'd get bits of news through traders. I learned about...what happened then."

Fergus fell silent. He pulled the food tray to him. Instead of stuffing the food in his mouth, he took long, small bites of the food. He paused, stared at the meal, and slouched forward. His fork clattered on the tray in front of him. He closed his eyes and brought his clenched fist to his mouth.

Aedan patted him on the back. "Take your time."

Fergus nodded. He picked the fork back up. The nobleman whittled down the meal till only an empty plate remained. He gazed at the empty plate till the servant came to pick it up. Once she had left, Fergus began again.

"After a while, as the news about who had done it trickled in, about how Howe took our Teynir, about how he became Arl of Denerim and Loghain's right-hand man, I could no longer take it. Once I had recovered enough, I set out on my own, to find Howe and make him answer for what he had done, but by the time I arrived here at Denerim, I find that my little brother had already put Howe in the ground, and the Archdemon." Fergus teared up and smiled at Aedan. "I missed you, brother."

Aedan hugged Fergus tight. Fergus's stomach rumbled, despite the meal. Aedan laughed, "Apparently not as much as food."

Fergus pulled out of the hug and drummed his stomach. "Yes, well it has been a while since I've had a decent meal."

"You can have at least three at the feast tonight." Aedan unfurled a linen bag. "Brought some of your nice clothing leftover from the estate."

Fergus buttoned up the shirt Aedan handed him. Where once it had fit perfectly, the loose fabric now hung off him and engulfed his entire body. Fergus frowned.

"I'll find a tailor," remarked Aedan as he handed Fergus the pants.

Aedan's brother examined himself in the mirror and cringed at his thin face. "Maker, I do look like shit."

"Well, have a gander at me." Aedan pulled up his shirt to reveal his dessicated left side and the scars lining his body.

Fergus almost barfed his meal back up at the sight of Aedan's left side. "Maker, you need to warn me first. What the hell mauled your left side?"

Aedan chortled as he pulled his shirt back down. "Got bitten by an Archdemon. I used my burning sword to seal the wound."

"I can't tell if you're joking right now."

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the man who slew the Archdemon, and led our armies to victory. The Warden-Commander of Ferelden, or as you all know him by, the Hero of Ferelden!"

Aedan stepped out atop at the top of the platform in front of the palace in full armor. All those below cheered as he gave the crowd a small wave and smile. Their voices thundered in his ear. He considered saying something, but doubted any of them would hear him. Instead he walked off the platform, and beckoned Anora back into the public's eye.

Despite having to follow his appearance, the queen as always kept up a perfect smile and strong voice. Truth be told, Aedan didn't listen to the speech. Whilst he sat in the chairs beside the platform, his arms itched, almost burning, but Aedan couldn't scratch beneath his armor. Even if he could, proper decorum dictated not itching oneself during the Queen of Ferelden's speech. Aedan gritted his teeth till Anora finished and the crowd cheered. Once the speech had ended and the festivities had begun, he and Alistair side-stepped towards the buffet table.

"I told you not to use that name," muttered Aedan.

"That's the name they all know you by, what can I do?" Alistair waved out to the crowd gathering near them. "Now if you'll excuse me, there's a cheese platter with my name on it."

"Only if we can get through this crowd."

As the oncoming guests mobbed at Aedan and Alistair to converse, the pair struggled through them towards the buffet table. While Alistair aimed for the cheese platter, piled higher than himself, Aedan aimed for the watered down soup, the one thing in the entire feast he might eat without regurgitating. Even if they could squeeze through the crowd in full armor, no one was looking away from them tonight. The King in his regal golden armor, and the Hero of Ferelden, in the same armor used to slay the Archdemon. Noble and commoner alike struck at them with niceties and laughter. Some couldn't even speak and merely touched at Aedan and Alistair's armor, and scurried away to whisper to their friends. Despite the excess of attention, Aedan and Alistair nodded, smiled back, then carried on through the storm of people swarming the tables.

At last they reached their destination, only to discover empty platters. "Are you kidding me?" Alistair picked up the one remaining piece of cheese left and fumed. The thin, torn piece of cheese flopped forward in his hand.

"You're the king, wave at a servant and they'll get you more."

"It's the principle of the matter. How can you call this a feast when the food runs out in the first half hour?"

"We  _are_ in a dire economic and agricultural crisis." Aedan peered into the soup bowl and scowled at the empty bottom. He reached into the side pockets on his armor and pulled out a spare jar of mushed up carrots Wynne had given him. He opened the lid and pointed Alistair at it. "Well, want some?" He spooned a lump into his mouth.

Alistair stared at the orange mass glomped inside of the jar. He glared at Aedan, back the jar, and then back at Aedan. He narrowed his eyes. "Are you offering me baby food?"

"Fine, I'll leave you to your one thin slice of cheese." A nearby noble bumped into Alistair from behind, and the weight of the cheese pulled it down into the ground. Alistair's mouth fell agape as another nobleman trampled the cheese beneath his boot. "Sorry," said Aedan, who spooned the last bits of carrot mush into his mouth. "I meant your one thin slice of sadness."

Alistair sighed while turning to the large cask near the center of the hall, where Oghren roared atop the table with a mug in each hand. "Well, there's always ale."

"My word, it's the Hero of Ferelden and the King!" exclaimed a nearby group of nobles, just as Alistair was about to grab his ale. They blocked his path and introduced themselves. Aedan could picture the internal screaming of Alistair as the king forced a smile and conversed with the new arrivals.

As Aedan fended off another band of nobles, he muttered aside to his friend, "Gotta get out of this crowd. I'll see you soon." He zipped through the cracks in the crowd, holding his head down to the ground, ignoring the drops of wine and flecks of food scattered by drunken guests. His arms burned. Aedan wiped his forehead and scaled the main stairway, nodding at the two guardsmen guarding the entrance to west wing. "Men. Thanks for your hard work tonight."

At the first, one of them rubbed his eyes, yawned, and stared back up at Aedan. His eyes widened. His dozing compatriot jumped as an elbow struck him in the side. The two guardsmen stood at attention and tried their best not to smile. "Ser, yes, ser!"

As Aedan climbed the stairway, the guardsmen whispered in hushed tones: "That was him! Really him! Thought we were just going to stand here and do nothing all day!"

Aedan reached the balcony, ripped his gauntlets off, and let the skin beneath them breath. The skin on his forearms, though littered with scars from the blight, hadn't changed in appearance since yesterday. Yet they burned and ached. Aedan gritted his teeth. The pain had only grown throughout the feast, and Aedan's mind lingered to the thought of a familiar liquid.

Aedan gripped the railing of the balcony and squeezed tight. "I don't need it, I don't need it, I don't need it." He took deep breaths to slow his breathing.

From the floor beneath, the sounds of the guards carried up to him: "-Excuse me, my lady, you're not allowed up here."

"See this crest? The Hero of Ferelden will want to talk to me," came Clarel's voice.

"Ah yes, I apologize, Warden."

Armored footsteps approached from behind. Aedan strapped his gauntlets back on. The door opened behind him, and Warden-Constable Clarel leaned on the balcony next to Aedan.

"Little weird hearing others called that," remarked Aedan. "Warden."

"Well, I may be a Warden, but to those people out there, you are THE Warden." Clarel smiled and offered Aedan a flask of water. "To be frank, you are to me, and perhaps to the rest of us. You killed an Archdemon, the ultimate goal of the Wardens. Not even the First Warden can claim that."

"I'm going to guess you're not here to ask how my day is going."

"Unfortunately, no." Clarel sighed. "Just us two, so I'll get straight to business: are you sure you cannot tell us anything more about what happened? What prevented your death? You have to understand. We must do anything to destroy the Old Gods. If there is even a chance it still lives...we must know of the magic that prevented your death."

Aedan peered to the back of the hallway, making sure that nobody was coming. "I didn't wish to speak of this in front of Alistair." His tone hushed and he leaned closer to Clarel. "The explanation with the mage was just an excuse I had to make in front of Alistair, one he would buy since she and I were close. He's going to be the King of Ferelden, no longer a Warden. This is a Warden secret...Have you heard the reports of the final battle?"

"We've interviewed soldiers there, yes."

"The darkspawn swarmed at me, ignoring everyone else. One gouged out my eye. The archdemon bit me and punctured most of my organs." Aedan drew a knife from his side and ran it across his hand. The blood dribbled onto the carpet. Aedan willed his ability to activate. His eyes went blood red, and the wound closed itself back up.

Clarel took a sharp intake of breath and froze. "...How?" Aedan noted the curiosity in her eyes as she stared at his hand just like Avernus, and the small hint of a smile.

"The Grey Warden mage Avernus made a mixture, crafted from the sacrifice of fellow Wardens and hundreds of years of experimentation, that I drank. The mixture has given me a greater mastery of the taint. I didn't want Alistair to discover this ability's origins or the warden's experiments. The Grey Wardens have already been banned from Ferelden once."

Aedan leaned back against the balcony, and stared Clarel in the eyes. "I died for five minutes, then I came back to life. Most of the public assumes that it was residual magic from the mages, some miracle of Andraste, or just some ill-founded rumor, but Avernus has theorized that his mixture somehow both killed the Archdemon's soul and healed me. He and I have decided to research the exact cause. There is still so much we don't know about the taint. We could save a lot of lives with this research, Blight or not. He's not sure if we can reproduce the effects of saving the Grey Warden, for the mixture I took is unique and took hundreds of years to make, but perhaps the other effects can be emulated."

Her eyes still widened, Clarel took a second to process the new information, taking a long sip from her wine glass. She set the glass upon the balcony, then shook Aedan's hand with vigor. "Thank you for trusting me with this."

Aedan gave her a grimace. "I ask you be selective with sharing this knowledge. We don't need more people knowing about this and asking questions. Perhaps the First Warden, the other Warden-Commanders, but for now please keep this under wraps and your report confidential."

"That seems prudent." Clarel headed for the doorway, but not before picking up her wine glass. "I'll let you get back to the festivities, and I'll finish up the report. We leave this evening; my report is expected in a week along with the archdemon blood." She raised her glass to Aedan. "We look forward to seeing the results of your research with Avernus, as well as your leadership of the Ferelden Wardens."

Once Clarel departed down the stairwell, Aedan let out a long breath and took his gauntlets off again. His hand spasmed and burning pain shot straight from his recently closed wound down to his forearms. Aedan sat and let the cool air soothed his skin and muscles, waiting for the pain to subside.

He hoped, no, bet that his plan would work. He'd lure out their curiosity with a modicum of truth and personal stake: telling them the witch had done it. Too little information, and they'd start poking around and asking too many questions. Eventually they'd have connected the dots to Morrigan. They'd wonder why Aedan had not told them anything, then search for the witch. Too much information...same result, but instead they'd burn down the forests to find her.

With their curiosity piqued, he earned their trust by sharing a 'secret' with them, one he wouldn't even share with Alistair, so it appeared that he trusted them. Now they would not suspect Alistair on having been in on Morrigan's ritual, if they ever discovered it. Nor would they ever suspect Morrigan, with their attention now so fixated on Avernus and him and instead dismissing her as a offhand lie by Aedan.

Aedan grimaced. Now he was a liar to the order he had sworn himself to. Perhaps he belonged amongst the sea of politicians swimming about the courtyard below. Yet he narrowed his eyes as he thought of Clarel. Truth be told, he knew the Orlesian Wardens could have sent more troops into Ferelden. They had the greatest soldiers and spies in the world. If Aedan and his company evaded Loghain for so long, how could the Orlesian Wardens have not sent in a small battalion to do the same?

He knew though. They, like Aedan, made a calculated risk. Why risk sacrificing more Wardens, when they could consolidate their troops in one location for when the Blight consumed Ferelden?

He trusted Alistair and Duncan...but he had never met any of the other Wardens, save for Riordan, who tried to recruit Loghain. He and Alistair had drawn a line that day, when they executed Loghain. Aedan didn't know where these folks would draw the line- so he would draw one between them and the ones he cared about.

* * *

_"Thank you for going along with my plan," said Aedan, his arms crossed while leaning against the stone wall. Already the streets bustled with the celebrations. Aedan had retreated into one of the dungeon rooms, where Avernus was staying by choice. The old mage had cited it as similar to Warden's Keep: dark, cold, and solitary._

A _vernus stood at a nearby table, brewing some mixture. Smoke billowed out from his vials. "Technically you died," he began, without peering up from his work, "and technically my mixture brought you back to life. Who's to say whatever Chasind ritual that swamp witch of yours did failed, and I was the one who stopped the Archdemon from killing you? I am the one with hundreds of years of practical experience."_

_The old mage glanced backwards and his eyes glinted. "Now the Wardens will provide me with whatever research I want, and as much alchemical supplies as I need- however, are you sure you do not wish to share the true cause of your survival?"_

_"That's not the deal, Avernus."_

_"Of course, I could just turn you, reveal to them my mixture had nothing to do with your survival...but then I'd lose all that precious funding and materials." The mage eyed Aedan, letting his gaze fall to the man's sword. "And besides...I think that'd make you very angry. I'm not quite sure I'd want to make you angry." Avernus turned back to his work and poured the contents of several vials into a nearby bucket. The metal frosted over and a cool liquid filled the container. "I may be the only one in the world who knows the full extent of what you're capable of."_

_"Good call."_

_"That's not to say we're out of the clear yet. They'll expect progress, at least with the truthful part of your explanation. If you want to stop the questions, we'll need results."_

_Aedan rubbed his right arm as goosebumps ran down it. "I know."_

_"And you've restricted my research to ethical subjects. There are limits to the results obtained from them."_

_"I know." Aedan rolled up his sleeve. "You need tissue samples, not just blood."_

_"Yes. On a regular basis." Avernus handed him the bucket and placed it on the ground. Aedan winced as he grabbed the freezing cold handle and dragged it over to the nearby chair. The cold wafted up into his face as he sat down._

_"On a regular basis." Aedan pulled out his knife and held it against his forearm. He pushed the garroted blade down into his skin. Blood trickled down as the edge broke the surface. "Why do you think I'm here?"_

_"How much are you willing to give?"_

_"As much as you need."_

_"Then let's get started."_

_The warden hesitated as he watched the blood drip into the bucket, diluting the pure liquid below with trails of red. He closed his eyes and thought of Morrigan. His chest clenched. Aedan dug the knife in deeper, winced, then pulled downwards. Flesh splashed into the bucket._

* * *

Aedan's forearm trembled once again as he waved Eamon off. "It was good seeing you, Eamon. Give Connor my regards."

Isolde gave Aedan a curt nod. The Arl smiled alongside his wife. "You as well, Aedan. I'll see you at the trade meeting in two days."

Aedan patted Arl Eamon on the back and headed towards Fergus, who was currently being mobbed by nobles.

"Sorry, everyone, going to speak with my brother alone, hope you don't mind." Aedan smiled at the crowd. They erupted with delight at the sight of him, several of them all speaking at once. Aedan shook each of their hands before grabbing his brother by the shoulder and pulling him towards the balcony.

"Oh Maker, thank you," muttered Fergus. "Thought they'd never leave me alone."

"Enjoying the feast?" said Aedan, slapping his brother on the back.

Fergus patted his stomach and held back a burp. "In actuality, not that much food here, but it's been so long since I've eaten something that's not foraged from the bottom of a forest that I'm stuffed."

"How's being back among the nobles treating you?"

"Not terrible. I've been back for less than a day, and I can already smell the schmoozing. The Teyrn of Highever, brother to the Hero of Ferelden, returns! Let's all get on his good side and butter him up- but some of them do mean well. Offered me some of the food from their plates since the feast ran out. It's a wonder the attendees haven't rioted yet."

Aedan pointed over at Oghren, who still roared near the keg with two mugs in hand. "That's what the booze is for." He groaned as Oghren waved over at him, and shouted, "Warden! Get over here and celebrate!" All those in vicinity of the dwarf now turned at Aedan. The warden ducked into the crowd.

Leliana tapped on Aedan's shoulder from behind. "The rest of us are gathering in the forest clearing outside the city at the usual camp spot. Be sure to drag Oghren over." Before Aedan could speak, the bard disappeared into the dark.

* * *

Once all of them had arrived in the clearing, Leliana strummed her lute and hummed under her breath, while the others dragged logs and lay out sheets for them to sit upon. Soon a fire roared up in the center of the camp. Aedan and his companion sat about it, listening to Leliana's jovial tune. Wynne hummed alongside her and bobbed her head about, her cheeks flushed from wine. The elderly mage called, "Aedan, it's your turn to get the firewood." She passed the flask of wine back to Zevran. The elf raised the flask to her and gave her a wink.

Aedan, who was laying on his back on a nearby sheet, crooked his head up. "I've been moving corpses all day, can't Shale do it?"

"Shale did it last time, it's only fair."

"Fine." Aedan groaned and dragged himself up. "Let's have the guy who got bitten by an Archdemon and had his eye stabbed out lift the heavy things."

"First, the eye grew back, stop complaining," said Alistair. He twirled a rabbit they had caught over the campfire. He salivated at the fat dripping off the creature.

"You go get your eye skewered out by a pike, I guarantee you'll never stop complaining about it," muttered Aedan as he trudged into the forest.

"Second, are we never going to hear the end of this? It's like the time I accidentally ate the last piece of venison."

The warden, once he returned, carried logs underneath his arm. "Yeah.  _Accidentally_. That's what happened." Aedan glared at Alistair and tossed the firewood into the center of the clearing. Alistair threw his arms in the air.

The companions passed around the bottle of whiskey. Each took a swig, except Aedan, who smiled and passed it on to the next one. As the bottle circled around, Aedan soon found an empty bottle passed back to him.

It was almost just another night. Another campfire, another rabbit scrounged up...except at least for tomorrow there would be no fighting. They chatted and celebrated while Aedan took the time to discover their next destinations.

Zevran was heading back to Antiva, despite being thought dead by the Crows. When Aedan had questioned his judgement, Zevran smiled and said, "I've got business to take care of."

Leliana would accompany the Divine and Brother Genitivi on an expedition to the Urn of Sacred Ashes. She smiled and beamed as she spoke of the Chantry once again.

Sten had arranged a boat back to the Qunari. When asked about it, he smiled and said, "I hope that if the Qunari return, we do not meet on the battlefield." Aedan smiled back and clinked his glass against Sten's.

As the night grew longer, Aedan could not make out half the words Oghren was slurring in his drunken stupor. Aedan stared back at the dwarf who spat out drunken sentences and spit into Aedan's face. The warden sipped on his water and tried to the best of his ability to understand the dwarf's words. After much deliberation, the dwarf began to regain some semblance of speech.

"How ya doing, bud!" chortled Oghren, who slapped Aedan several times on the back.

"Not bad."

"How ya doing, bud!"

"You said that already."

"Did I?" The dwarf giggled and swigged down more of his ale, then scowled once he saw the bottom of his glass. "Aedan, gimme some of yours."

"I dunno, this water is strong."

"Ah, it's probably vodka," said Oghren as he dabbed his greasy finger into Aedan's water and put it into his own mouth. "Tastes like vodka...and sausages."

"Because you've been eating sausages and drinking...everything." Aedan eyed the cloud of residue that Oghren's finger had left in his water. He cringed and handed the rest to Oghren. "You can have it."

Oghren downed the water, wiped his mouth, and belched. "That's the stuff!" He wrapped his arm around Aedan's shoulder and poked at his cheek. "Bah, look at you, all sad and stuff. No doubt that damn witch is the cause!" burped Oghren. "Don't worry- we'll find you a girl with even bigger tits!"

Aedan's fellow warden stumbled over and plopped down next to him. "All you gotta say is 'hey babe, I'm the Hero of Ferelden, and I killed an Archdemon.'" Alistair winked at an imaginary woman with a smile and nod. "Panty dropper right there."

Oghren slapped Alistair on the back. The king stumbled forward near the fire, but Aedan caught him by the arm and yanked him back upright. "You got no tact, boy! Can't just name drop, you gotta be clever like...hey. See how I slew that archdemon?" Oghren opened his mouth wide and belched. "I'm gonna slay it in bed tonight with you, beautiful."

Aedan shook his head and smiled. "Charming."

Oghren shook Aedan by the shoulders. "See, he's still stuck up on her! There's so many nicer woman out there. Say one bad thing about her!"

"Come on, you have to say one bad thing about her!" said Alistair, who joined in on shaking Aedan.

The warden's head and body flung about and he groaned. "Ah, come on, guys."

"She can't hear you out here."

"No, that not what I mean. Telling me to say a bad thing about Morrigan is like telling me to call water wet."

All his other companions who had not passed out roared with laughter.

* * *

By the time his brother had arrived at the campsite, the others had already begun to leave. They drunkenly trudged off while Aedan and Fergus sat together by the fire.

"Spirited friends," remarked Fergus, as he watched Shale carrying Oghren and Alistair over her shoulders.

Aedan gave one last laugh as Zevran gave an exaggerated salute. "Can't blame them. That was probably the last time we'll see each together like this."

"I'm sure you can all arrange something."

"No. Perhaps our paths will cross sometimes, but I doubt ever at the same time as everyone else. Besides," Aedan laughed and scratched at the scars on his right hand, "a Blight brought us together. It would take something equally as bad to bring us all together again. I rather hope to have a little peace for now." The fire had started to die down a little now. Aedan stoked the fire with a twig and threw more firewood on it, but to no avail. "Ah well. Things end."

His brother chewed upon some jerky. He offered it out in front of Aedan. "Sure you don't want any?"

Aedan held his stomach and groaned. "I'm good, Fergus. Been having stomach issues."

"You know, while you were gone, all the nobles were telling me the rumours they had heard about the Hero of Ferelden."

"What have they told you?"

"One story says you slept with a pirate and three greased nugs at the same time."

"Just the pirate- and no, she didn't have any hook hands or peg legs."

"Killed a dragon and wore armor made out of its bones."

"True."

"Secretly a werewolf."

"Clawed by some, but no."

"Still can't believe it all of it. Not just the rumours, but all of this. You being a Grey Warden and killing the Archdemon itself." Fergus chuckled, but his smile faded as a wistful look came across him. "They'd be proud of what you've done. You know I am."

"I should hope so. I did kill an Archdemon."

Fergus punched his brother in the side as a jest. "Maker, you're still an ass." He took another swig from his whiskey bottle he had brought. He glanced at Aedan while his fingers wrung the side of his pants. "You know, there's an even more unbelievable story they're telling out there- that you died while fighting the Archdemon, but came back to life."

"Yeah. I was dead for five minutes." Aedan hung his head down in silence. His hand rubbed his right ring finger. He looked over at his brother staring at him. His gaze fell back to the ground. "I know what you want to ask, Fergus. I'm sorry, I didn't see them."

"Damn." Fergus looked down into the bottom of the bottle. He shook the golden-brown liquid about, then raised it to his nose, took a long sniff, then gulped down the remainder. "Did you see anything?"

"Yes." Aedan scratched the back of his neck, while Fergus paused and awaited his answer. "It's not that I don't want to tell you," said the warden, still unable to make eye contact, "it's just not the answer you or anyone else are looking for. It's mine. I don't know if that makes sense to you...but-"

"It's fine. Some things are for a man alone." Fergus's fingers drummed against the almost finished bottle. "I wish I could see them again though."

"I know you do."

"Look at us, Aedan. Two grown men moping around. What would Father say?"

"I think he'd say mope. It's fine if it's painful, Fergus. I think that's a good thing." Aedan sipped on his water. "Just remember the pain isn't all they left us."

"Now you sound like the older brother."

"Certainly don't look like the older one."

"Maker, it never stops with you, you ass."

"Only because it's you, Fergus."

Fergus finished off his bottle, and cringed at the strong after-taste. Aedan handed him his water, and Fergus washed the remainder down. "Still, I'd rather not be moping. Come on then, confirm more of these stories. They say you fought a golem with your bare hands."

"No, unless you count annoying Shale."

"Tamed a dragon?"

"No. That would have been useful."

Aedan took a nearby stick and stoked the dying fire again. "Aren't fires supposed to last longer? This one keeps on dying." The last of the flames flickered. Aedan threw another log on, but the flames continued to sputter. "Usually I just held my hands over it, and it lasted for hours."

Fergus raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't seem right."

"No, if Morrigan were here, she'd agree that they lasted that long. She was always with me till they..." Aedan paused with his mouth still open as the realization clicked in his mind. "Oh."

"Morrigan?"

"A girl."

"Nice girl?"

"Mean as hell, actually." Aedan laughed, gave up on his stick, and tossed it into the fire. Fergus's eyes widened. The ring rustled in his pocket.

* * *

The light flashed around her wings. Morrigan landed on both feet and one hand. She gazed out over the tower top at the same view she and Aedan had stared out at together, that final day in Denerim. Despite the ruined buildings, the view looked quite similar, however the view behind her atop the tower did not. The nearby tower, which had stood taller than this one, had collapsed and fractured upon the roof Morrigan stood upon. No doubt in its descent onto Fort Drakon, it had collided and knocked down the neighboring tower onto this one. Now rubble piled higher than Morrigan, and precious little space remained to even stand upon the roof. Morrigan brushed her hand against the rubble. Her chest twanged. Yet another thing the Archdemon had ruined for her, for only it could have knocked down an entire tower.

She held the ring Aedan had given her in her hand. Her finger lingered over the dull steel. She clenched her fist, then held it out over the edge of the roof. The wind roared in her ears and chilled her to her core.

The word lingered on her tongue. Right before the Archdemon, Aedan was about to say it, but could not finish. He knew as well as she that they would not see each other again. She need not think of him anymore, regardless of whether he was alive or dead. Why did it matter? She was always going to leave.

"Goodbye." As she said the word, Morrigan gazed down upon the candle-lit windows, upon the people reveling in their streets on their night of celebration. Even the Alienage, as ruined as it was, flickered with torches and festivity. Glancing down upon the fires below, her hands felt warm, and the image of Aedan sleeping behind her, his hand intertwined with hers, flashed through her mind.

Her throat choked up. Morrigan took another deep breath to clear her head and wiped at her eyes. She willed her fist to open, but it still gripped the ring. "Goodbye," she said again, but still her fist would not open.

"Goodbye," she croaked, her knees trembling and her chest heaving. She flung her arm forward, but her hand held tight to the ring. Her legs wobbled and her head spun. She bit her own lip as her chest clenched. Morrigan collapsed onto her behind as her clenched fist trembled. She picked herself back up, trudged over to the rubble, rounded the corner, and sat behind it, far from the edge of the roof, far from the light below. Morrigan lay her forehead onto her crossed arms. Her eyes watered, but she tightened her fists till her knuckles went white.

The nearby ladder creaked as someone climbed up. Her eyes darted at the noise, but saw nothing past all the rubble. Neither she nor the person would be able to see each other. Whoever it was reached the top of the roof and the wood creaked beneath their step. Morrigan shot an angry glare in the person's direction, but lay her head back in her arms. She held back her tears, so tight that every muscle in her body clenched up. Her fingers gripped into her arms till a little blood dribbled down.

As the footsteps grew closer, Morrigan could feel the slow, heavy weight beneath them- a man. He stepped twice, paused, then groaned. "Ah, damn it, stepped in bird shit," came Aedan's voice.

Morrigan held Aedan's ring to her chest. Her breath left her. It couldn't be. Twas her mind playing tricks. Morrigan gripped her hair in her hands and curled up into a ball, the wall behind her still pressing against her back. She gasped for air, but her lungs would take not another breath.

The man's shoe scraped against the roof. "Look me at me, I'm a bird, flying around without a care in the world, shitting all over Aedan's favorite spot."

Morrigan covered her ears, even though the sound of her pounding heart drowned out the man's words. She forced her eyes shut.

"If it wasn't for me the Archdemon would be snacking on you. Part of me thinks Shale is right about you damn creatures."

_Stop stop stop stop-_

The man rustled about in his pants pocket. Like a tidal wave the familiar feeling of her gifted ring upon Aedan's hand crashed over her, fuzzy and tingly in the back of her head. Her eyes shot open. She bit her lip to hold back her sobs, then peeked around the corner. Aedan stood at the tower's edge, staring down into the city below. The man sat down and hung his legs over the roof. He held the ring on his finger up into the sky and gazed at it. Still out of sight, Morrigan whipped back into hiding and covered her mouth. The tears forced themselves out and drizzled down across her fingers.

"Can you hear me through this. Hello?" Aedan tapped his finger against the ring. "Give me a sign if you can? Like a vibration or shock." The man paused and grunted. "Actually, no, don't do that, I don't want to know if you can shock me through here, I'd rather spare myself that worry."

The man looked at the empty space besides him. He stared at it for a while before turning his gaze back to the star lit night. "Should have stuck around a little longer after I died," he said, "Hell of sight, seeing a man regenerate an eye and most of his organs." Aedan laughed and fiddled with the ring. "The man you saved was my brother, by the way. World's a small place, isn't it? Knew you were a softie at heart.

"He said you wanted him to bury the ring at my grave. I get that. I do. You wanted to say goodbye. To close that chapter of your life. To make the pain go away. When my family died, I didn't want to think about them. Every time I remembered the good times, my chest ached. I wanted to see them...to be with them…and I kept waiting for a perfect moment...one perfect moment when you can let go and say goodbye. The next day you'll wake up. The sun will shine down. Your body will be light as a feather. The birds will sing."

Morrigan huddled up against the wall, trying to will herself to cease her stifled crying. Her eyes darted again and again in his direction. The sounds of Aedan scratching his head lingered in the silence. "That moment doesn't exist. Goodbye is just a word. You think you're saying it to them, but the words will never reach them." Aedan hesitated, swallowed the lump in his throat, and his voice trembled. "They're gone. We're just saying it for ourselves. It's just a word you say. Nothing changes."

The dull ache in Morrigan's chest thumped and exploded. Her tears welled up in her eyes. Morrigan bit her lip to keep her silence and tears held back. There he was, just around the corner. If she walked over and reached out, she could touch him. Morrigan gripped her ankles and pulled her legs to her chest.

Aedan chuckled to himself. "When I remember the way you try to pretend like you're not smiling, and...gah." The man made a pained gasp. "Like you ripped out a little piece of my heart and took it with you. Maybe you feel the same, and I've got a little piece of yours with me. Maybe that's all I am- a mess cobbled from other people, or somebody carrying all those pieces all on his back, buckling under the weight."

The warden's grip tightened around the ring on his finger. "I can still remember their words. Their laughs. Their smiles. If the pain is the price for remembering them, and for remembering you...if I have to carry that weight..." Aedan paused mid-sentence. "It's not that I have to," he started, almost so softly that Morrigan couldn't hear him. "It's not that I need to. It's not that I should. I want to remember them always, and I want to remember you. The only difference is they'll never hear me again, but you can. You're still out there." Aedan stood back up, dusted off the dirt from his pants, and stretched his arms out. "So I'll find you. I made you a promise didn't I?"

Even without seeing him, Morrigan could tell that smile of his was spread across his face. She let the tears flow down her face. They drizzled down her arms and onto her lap. Morrigan pressed her mouth against her hands to muffle her sobs. Each one shook her body. Her heart raced and her breath trembled. Morrigan's smile pressed wide against her soaking wet arms. She sat like that for a long while as the Aedan stood staring out into the city skyline. After his long silence, the man on the opposite side of the rubble said, "And if it's as easy as staking out the bottom of this tower, waiting till you flew up here, then climbing up after the appropriate amount of time, I should have no problem at all."

Morrigan jolted her head up.

"By the way, you don't cry as quietly as you think," said Aedan.

Morrigan wiped away her tears and stifled her lost sob. "Fool," she murmured. Light flashed about her. Wings flapped in the air. As she flew by Aedan, she saw him already headed towards the ladder.

Without looking back, Aedan gave her a wave.

"Love you too."

* * *

**PART 8 END**

* * *

 


	73. Heroes

* * *

**Part 9: Live**

* * *

 "All these darkspawn skulking about reminds me of Denerim during the Blight." The elf adjusted his helm, surveyed their surroundings, and flashed a grin at his fellow warrior. He slicked back a lock of blond hair behind his long ear. "You know, Ariane, this one time-"

Ariane brandished her sword at Deyris without even giving him a glance. His elven armor rustled as he jumped backwards."For the last time," groaned the elven woman, "if I have to hear another 'well this one time I was fighting darkspawn' story, I'll put my sword through your face. Enough bravado- pay attention instead."

Deyris pushed the tip of her sword away and chuckled. "Relax a little, Ariane."

Ariane rolled her eyes at Deyris. "We all get it, you fought at the Battle of Denerim. Every time you tell this tale to impress women. I'm telling you right now it won't work on me."

"Damn. Why not?"

"If my caravan had arrived in time, I'd have slaughtered three times as many darkspawn as you, if only because I wasn't talking the entire time." Ariane jabbed her thumb at the archer behind her. "Gethon was there too, but you never see him bragging about it."

Gethon jumped at the mention of his name. He remained quiet and gripped his bow tighter. The elf rubbed at the tatoos upon his face and glanced away from the other two.

Deyris smirked while sheathing his sword back into its scabbard. "Come on, I fought in the Denerim market, in the thick of it all! Gethon, where'd you end up fighting at?"

Gethon mumbled. Deyris leaned in ear first. He elbowed his fellow Dalish clansmen in the side and chuckled, "Probably near the shemlen's back alleys, am I right? Hope you took a bath after that."

"-rt Drakon."

Deyris's expression froze. His voice quieted. "What?"

Gethon kneaded his bowstring between his fingers, avoiding Deyris's gaze. Even Ariane glanced over at Gethon and crooked her ear at him. Gethon sighed. "Fort Drakon."

Both Ariane and Deyris halted, then creaked towards the archer, who had resumed his lookout. He frowned at them while the two stared slack jawed. Deyris raised both hands in the air as his mouth opened and closed. "Hold on," he shouted, "Hold on-"

"By Mythal, keep your voice down," seethed Ariane.

Deyris gave Adriane a small bow, and his next words were a whisper, albeit a furious one. "Are you telling me you were at the battle with the Archdemon, and you've told none of us that story, for two whole years?"

"Didn't want to talk about it."

"Are you serious? Two whole years?"

"I just don't want to talk about it."

"Come on! We'd love to-"

Ariane watched Gethon shrink away from Deyris, and watched his fingers knead his bowstring at an alarming rate. She tapped Deyris on his shoulder."Deyris."

"Oh." Deyris scratched at his hand and cringed. "Sorry."

Ariane remembered the Dalish ashes the clan had brought back from the tower. The archdemon's fire had seared and warped the armor of the dead, but at least those had stayed intact. Only ash remained of most bodies. One couldn't tell human from elf from dwarf. The difference races shared their grief, but the same rituals. The elves had wanted to bury their portion of the ashes, the dwarfs had wanted to return the it's back underground, and the humans had wanted to spread them to the wind. Ariane wasn't sure how they had divvied up the ashes, but somehow they had.

And this man before her had seen the slaughter upon the rooftop: men and women engulfed by flame, a horde of beasts slaughtering his comrades. What could she really say? I'm sorry? I hope you feel better? In the end, Ariane placed her hand upon Gethon's back. He turned to her, and when he did she gave him a small nod.

Gethon smiled back and placed his hand atop of hers. "It's fine. It was one day of my life two years ago. You, just, uh…" The man's voice quivered. "-just learn to get back to living."

Deyris walked alongside the other two in silence, but after a long time, he blurted out, "...Did you see him?"

"Deyris!" Ariane whipped her gaze back at him and scowled.

"It's fine, Ariane." Gethon did one last perimeter check. He noted the footsteps in the leaves and pointed to the east, and the other two followed his lead. "Which him are you talking about?" he asked.

"Come on! The Hero of Ferelden! The man killed an Archdemon, that had to have been amazing!" Deyris jabbed at the air several times as though stabbing the beast itself. He beamed at Ariane and Gethon. "Have you heard the rumors that a former Dalish trained him? See, those shemlen can't do anything without us."

"That's just nonsense the younger ones concocted," said Ariane, "Hard for those elves to relate to the man otherwise."

"Come on, out with it."

"I was there," said Gethon, "I saw him. The man kept the Archdemon's attention while the rest of the troops attacked it. Once the darkspawn had overwhelmed the army however, the Archdemon picked him up, tore into him with it's mouth, and threw him aside...but he got back up, and just as a darkspawn was about to dig its axe into my skill, they all jolted at him and swarmed him, like vermin over a corpse. He plowed through them and stood toe to toe with the Archdemon. He even blocked some of it's blows. I'm not sure what scared me more...the darkspawn, that someone out there exists that can mow them down like nothing, or that someone can survive those kinds of wounds."

"He's the Hero of Ferelden. What's there to be afraid of?"

"He's a shemlen. He's an Arl. One day the humans might send him after us." Deyris's eyes darted towards a rustling in the trees. His hand drew his bowstring back in an instant. A bird waddled out of the leaves and perched atop the branch. Deyris breathed easy. He glanced back at the other two. "Sure he ended the Blight, but how many bandits have we met along the way, who were just trying to get our food?" Deyris grimaced. "Ferelden's having a bad time of it, which means the elves are going to have a worse time. Need to rob someone? Let's rob the Dalish. Need to take our rage out one someone? Let's bully the knife-ears." Gethon clicked his tongue under his breath. "Marethari's clan was right to flee north."

Ariane looked at the grim expressions upon her two fellow elves, yet even she couldn't help but look downcast as well. Truth be told, nothing much had changed for the Dalish after the Blight. King Alistair had granted them some land, but it was nowhere near as much needed to hold all of them. Ariane knew if the king could, he would give more. He ruled with a kind touch, and rarely cared about one's race. However the nobles, especially those whose land had been Blight beyond recognition, no doubt made their stakes for existing land as well.

The Dalish agreed to use it as a temporary waystation: clans could come and go, but did not stay long. Just enough to rest, recuperate, and resupply- and that was where they had met that blasted witch. Ariane sneered at the thought of her. Morrigan. One of the few humans given the privilege of staying among the Dalish, and how did the witch repay them? By stealing one of their most valued texts, the only thing their clan had left of their ancient culture. It went to show: offer a human a bite of your bread, and they'd take the whole loaf. Now their search for Morrigan had taken them all the way into the Kocari Wilds. Ariane rued the day they'd ever let that witch stay with them.

An outline of a hut peered back at them from beyond the thick foliage. Ariane gestured to her comrades. "It's around here. Wait here, and warn me if any intruders come by." Ariane sliced her way through the thick plants. Once Ariane had managed her way into the clearing, she stared out at the a run down hut and it's surroundings. Right next to it a sickly colored swamp festered. A gas bubble popped and splashed a little water Ariane's way; the elf moved closer to the hut.

Nothing locked the closed door. Perhaps so far out in the Wilds, keys and locks were a luxury, but it surprised her that Morrigan nor the Asha'bellanar saw fit to secure their hut.

Ariane entered and closed the door behind her. Dust covered various parts of the hut: a bookshelf, some closets, the wardrobe, and more. Ariane peered at the bed, whose blankets however had no trace of dust. They had been neatly folded and laid on the bed.

A bird cawed in the distance and the trees rustled. Out of the corner of her eye Ariane spotted an unknown figure emerge from the forest. Ariane hid beneath the window, but peered out of the corner at the new arrival. A tattered cloak covered the man from neck to knees, though the outline of his heavy armor jutted out from beneath. He set down his knapsack and knelt down next to the mabari. His scabbard collided with the knapsack and clanged against it. A silver wing poked out- perhaps a statuette? Ariane frowned. Most looters didn't carry such heavy arms, nor could they have gotten this deep into the Wilds without dying.

The dog sniffed all about the surrounding area, before circling around one particular spot. He stood back up and approached the hut.

"You remember this place, don't you, Gregory?" chuckled the man as he opened the door. "Been a long time."

Ariane darted into the other room. The shem had been here before?

The pots and plates within the hut clattered as the intruder picked them up, as well as various other objects, and inspected them. Ariane peeked at the man kneeling down. He held a fork to the mabari's nose.

"What do you think, boy?"

The marbari barked and bounded about. He rolled over onto his back. The man chuckled and rubbed the creature's belly. "Good job, boy. I thought so." The man stood back up and tossed the fork aside. He poked at the folded up blankets. Finally, he turned to the direction of Ariane. "By the way, you can come out now."

Ariane furrowed her eyes. Even the dog hadn't detected her, how had this man done so? She gripped her sword and the weapon trembled. Should she run for it? Fight him?

"Not going to hurt you or your friends, just want to talk. When will people learn to breath quieter, I swear," muttered the man beneath his breath. "Oh, I'll just hide around the corner, he won't notice me. Every time."

Ariane took a deep breath, then came out from behind her hiding spot. The mabari halted midbound, then whipped its head towards Ariane. The elf drew her sword. "Not one more step." The human placed both hands above his head, but the mabari continued to growl and bark at Ariane. "Tell your dog to stand down." The mabari bared his fangs at her, his hair bristling.

"You  _are_  pointing a sword at him."

"Now."

"I guess you're also pointing it at me too. Should I be barking too? Woof, woof," laughed the man, who knelt down beside the mabari and stroked the creature between the ears. The barking died into a low growl. The mabari's eyes followed Ariane as she circled closer to the two.

"Why are you here?"

"Nice to meet you too."

"Why are you here? I won't ask again."

"Bet I can make you ask it again." The man peered around the room while ignoring Ariane's intense glare. He ran his finger across the dust on the fireplace. A thin layer of dust lined his fingertip. He sat down upon the bed, and lay down upon it. "Huh," he muttered to himself, staring up at the ceiling. "Almost like I never left the place." The human scratched at his right arm underneath his armor.

"You've been here before?"

"Twice. How do you think I found the place? One doesn't just wander into here."

"Did you know the witch who lived here?"

"Which one?"

Ariane raised an eyebrow. Perhaps he really had been here before. Her crossed arms loosened. "Morrigan."

The mabari barked at the name and jumped about. The man knelt down, patted his mabari on the head, and looked back up Ariane. "Ah yes, the grumpy one."

The elf smiled a little. "You know her after all. How about the other one? Asha'bellanar?"

"Bless you."

Ariane's smile vanished. She paused, furrowed her brow and glared at the man. "What?"

He blinked twice. "Oh. I thought you sneezed."

Ariane shook her head. "Asha'bellanar. In your tongue, it is 'Woman of a Thousand Years.'"

"Flemeth."

"You humans may call her such, yes. We allowed Morrigan residence with us because of her relation to the Ashebellanar, even though it has been quite some time since we have heard from her."

The man coughed into his hand and grimaced. Ariane narrowed her eyes at him as he peered away into the distance. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"Nope."

"Morrigan was looking for something called an eluvian. I do not know what that is, nor did anyone else in the clans when I inquired."

"Lost history?"

"Yes. Yet apparently a book of ours had information, one that Morrigan decided to steal from us. I've been tracking her for the past month to retrieve it."

"But the trail's gone cold, hasn't it?"

"How did you guess?"

"Been tracking her for two years. Cold is the best you can hope for."

"Long time to hunt one person. What'd she do to you?"

The man rubbed at the back of his neck. "She...stole something of mine as well." He clicked his fingers, "but that word- eluvian. Maybe we can find something on it. The Circle of Magi has the largest library in Ferelden, and it's not more than a weeks travel. There's got to be a mention of it in there."

"We?"

"I figure if we pool our information, we have a better chance of finding her."

Ariane ground her teeth. Could she trust this shem? No doubt he too was looking for Morrigan, but could he be trusted to bring Ariane along as an equal partner? For all she knew, he'd abandon her once she stopped having relevant information.

"You think they'll just let an elf in?"

"They owe me a lot of favors. Bet you I could get the Knight-Commander to dance the Remi."

The elf pondered the man's face in front of her. For some reason, his eyes had different shades of brown. Her gaze flickered to the small scars that lined his face- one above his nose, one on his cheek, another underneath hic chin, and a small discolored patch of burn scar tissue on the side of his neck. She glanced at his right hand that he had offered out to her. The scar from a large stab wound resided on his palm. Ariane hesitated, but still shook the hand before her. For now at least, he had information and resources she needed. The elders might give her a hard time later for having cooperated with an outsider, but she had no choice. The trail had gone cold, and coming to this hut was their last lead.

"Ariane." She moved forward to shake the man's hand, but he whipped around. He held his index and middle finger to his forehead and his gaze jolted about. "Were you followed?"

"What?"

The man pulled his kite shield out from the back of his cloak. "We need to get to your friends."

"What's happening?"

"Darkspawn. They must have followed you here. I was covering my presence with a magic salve, but you three must have…"

A scream echoed outside the hut.

"Deyris!" Ariane burst out the door, only to see an emissary in the distance, a fireball headed straight at her. She tried to move out of the path, but emissary waved his staff, and thick vines grew from the ground and trapped her in place. Ariana closed her eyes as the fireball barreled towards her, but just then the man leapt in front of her. The fireball exploded against his shield. Magical runes faded from the metal. Bits of flame still lingered on the hut wall and the dirt ground. A trail of smoke arose from the man's shield. He whistled at his mabari, who tore apart the vines holding Ariane in place.

For a moment Ariane swore she smelled thick, iron blood in the air, despite no wounded about. She watched darkspawn lunging at her friends whipped around towards the warden. Their pupils dilated and they bared their teeth. They rushed at him with greater fervor than before. "See to your friends. I've got this," he said. The man drew his sword from his scabbard. The garroted edge at the bottom of his blade glistened in the sun. Dark, grey steel collided with darkspawn flesh, and blood splashed over Ariane and the man. His sword protruded from out of the creature's back. He kicked the creature off his sword, and pointed over to the direction of her friends with the bloodied blade. The mabari barked and pulled the man's bag over to him. He pulled out his helm from within and placed it upon his head. Two shining gryphon wings jutted from the side. The man threw off his cloak to reveal the Grey Warden insignia beneath. He stampeded out into the oncoming crowd.

Ariane rushed over to her companions. Deyris and Gethon both limped over to her. Deyris stumbled a bit, having been clobbered by a Shriek, and claw marks dripped blood down his face. Gethon held his bleeding side and winced.

"You two alright?" asked Ariane as she patted the two down, checking for wounds. Gethon winced when Ariane's hand hit a bruise.

Deyris gritted his teeth. "Should be good, except for my pride. Taken by surprise by a darkspawn. Damn."

"He might need some-" Ariane whipped out her own swords and turned back towards the warden, only to find him attempting to get a bloody pulp off of his feet by dragging it across the ground. Darkspawn corpses littered the ground about him, their bones broken and some of them cleaved completely in two. One corpse lay at his feet, pulverized into a pulp. The man waved at Ariane.

"You guys have some armor grease? Trying to get this stuff out before it cakes in with the dirt- Gregory, no! I know it looks like ground pork, but that's not food." The dog sniffed at the darkspawn and growled. The warden whistled to his dog, reached in his pack, and offered the creature some jerky.

As Ariane supported the two limping elves with both of her arms, she felt Gethon halt in place. "It's him," he croaked.

"Yes, it's a Grey Warden. We're safe, don't worry."

"No, it's  _him_."

Deyis laughed. "You can't just say 'him' and expect us to know who you're talking abou-" Deyris's voice trailed off and his eyes widened as Gethon nodded at him. He whipped back at the warden and his mouth fell agape.

Ariane raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?" She saw Gethon's back straighten and his eyes widen. Ariane turned back to the approaching warden: the man who blocked fireballs, who in a flash killed a company of darkspawn, who left shattered bones beneath his step. The back of his tabard flowed behind him as he strode forward. The mid-afternoon sun shone from behind him, reflecting off his blood-stained armor, as though something from a storybook.

"It's  _him,_ " reiterated Gethon.

Ariane's eyes darted from Deyris, to Gethon, and then back to the warden before her. The realization left her slack jawed. It took a few seconds before she could whisper to the man in front of her, "You're the Hero of Ferelden."

The man offered his hand out once again. "Just call me Aedan."


	74. Search

Two watchmen sat in their chairs at the top of the gates, their bows at their sides. The older one chewed upon medicinal leaf. His lips smacked together. The younger watchman glared at him while yawning. The older one chewing his leaf shrugged, spat the leaf over the gate, and licked the inside of his mouth. The younger watchman rolled his right shoulder and massaged the joint. He balanced backwards on his chair and propped his legs up against the wall. He scratched at his weary eyes.

"Fuck the Warden-Commander," he said.

The older guardsmen frowned at the wasted leaf upon the ground. "What brought this on?"

"You know exactly what brought this on."

"It's been two weeks, give it a rest."

"I'm not giving it a rest until I'm off this graveyard shift. This is bullshit- just because I missed out on training."

"Missed out on training several times," piped in the older guardsman. He scoffed and opened a wrapped package of jerky. "He's the Warden-Commander of Vigil's Keep, not the Warden-Buddy of Funtime Party Keep."

"Guy needs to relax a little. Been two years since the Blight ended, and a little over one since the assault on Amaranthine and the Keep. We need not train so hard. Maker, have you ever seen him outside his armor?"

"You only talk like that because you didn't fight during the Blight."

The younger guardsmen eyed the jerky, but his fellow soldier shook his head and finished the piece. The young man kicked back in his chair. "He could at least have a drink with the soldiers, but noooo, apparently we're not good enough to drink with."

"You know he doesn't drink."

"Why the hell are you defending him? You're stuck here on this shift too."

"I chose this shift. Some of us like the peace and quiet, and the freedom to chew our leaf in peace." The older guard chuckled. "The Warden-Commander even comes up here during the night shift sometimes."

"Hello?" shouted a voice from down below. The two guards peered down from above the massive gates of Vigil's Keep. A middle-aged man in noble's clothing waved at them. Despite squinting, neither man could recognize the visitor. The two guards shrugged at each other. The visitor pointed at his face and yelled, "I'm Aedan's brother. Fergus Cousland, Teyrn of Highever."

"Did you schedule an appointment?" The older knight licked his finger and thumbed through the log book. "We've received no news about scheduled arrivals, especially not at this time of night." He shut the book and shook his head.

"So you're the Warden-Commander's brother. The Teyrn of Highever, travelling by himself in the dead of night. Uh huh." The younger guard crossed his arms, snorted, and leaned over the side of the wall to scrunch his eyes at the visitor. "Listen, we see a lot of his 'family' at these gates. Why don't you get lost, bandit?"

The older watchman growled at his fellow guard, "Hey, settle down a little-"

The visitor frowned. "Oh, have you seen my dead wife and son up there?" he shouted, "That must've been where they got around to."

The two guardsmen turned to one another. The older one cringed. "Either you just pissed off the Warden-Commander's brother, the Teyrn of freaking Highever, or it's another pretender. Either way, I suggest cutting your losses and letting the guy in. I can just kill him if he's lying."

"Nah, who comes at the dead of night? It's bandits, plain and simple."

* * *

Fergus glared up the two guardsmen. He doubted they could see him shooting them the stink-eye, but hoped they'd eventually get the message. He shivered and pulled his coat around himself.

"Wouldn't the Teyrn of Highever wear armor or something?" shouted the young guardsmen down to him.

"I left in a hurry!" shouted Fergus back. A horse whinnied behind him. A red-haired woman in leather armor ride up, with a balding man following behind her. The name lingered on Fergus's tongue as the woman approached. Fergus snapped his fingers together several times before the name clicked in his mind. "Sister Leliana! Aedan's friend."

The sister smiled back and waved at him. "It's been years, hasn't it?"

"I assume you're here to see Aedan as well."

"Well, our guest here is, though I'll be glad to see him again." Leliana peered up at keep walls. "Quite the fortress he has here. Have you been before?"

"I visited once right after Alistair had given him the title of Arl. Usually he'd come visit me in Denerim or Highever to get away from work." Fergus looked up again at the massive keep. "Looks nothing like it did then. Guess he renovated after the Keep's destruction."

The main walls that had once stood about the keep had been rebuilt, no longer rundown and overgrown as they had been during Howe's reign, but only a few months after Aedan had taken residence in the keep, the darkspawn had come. Despite the end of the Blight, the stragglers had still united and stormed Amaranthine. While Aedan had defended Amaranthine, Vigil's Keep had suffered a surprise siege. Aedan's forces and renovations to the keep had allowed them to fend off the horde for several days, but eventually the darkspawn made their way in. By the time the main armies of Amaranthine and Aedan had returned, much of the keep and it's wall lay in ruins- but not all had been lost. Much of the army Aedan had trained still remained thanks to his preparations to the Keep.

From the ruins Aedan had overseen a brand new reconstruction of the keep. With little existing infrastructure holding him back, Aedan and the Wardens gave Vigil's Keep an entirely new architecture. The act of defending Amaranthine had endeared Aedan even more to the nobles of Ferelden, and even those outside of Ferelden who often traded with the city. Donations had poured in towards the reconstruction of the keep. Aedan had even broke ground on secondary walls beyond the keep. Though Fergus still spotted scaffolding on the in-progress portions of the outer walls, the walls of the original keep had been finished, constructed with dwarven granite.

The man behind Leliana cracked his reins, and his horse galloped up next to Fergus. "I don't believe we've been introduced. Brother Genitivi."

Fergus beamed as he shook the man's hand.. "I've read many of your volumes, Brother Genitivi. Big fan of your work. I assume the two of you are visiting Aedan as well?"

Genitivi grinned while gesturing to the oversize notebook by his side. Various notes and drawings stuck out of the pages. "Yes, well, the Divine herself has asked me to travel and document the events that occurred during the Fifth Blight. An interview with your brother was only natural." He pointed over at Leliana, who had been waving at the guardsmen to no avail. She huffed and stomped back over. "They sent the Left Hand of the Divine with me for protection and to help in my efforts."

"You could ask Leliana here about what happened. She travelled with him."

"I could and have, of course, but there's a difference between documenting events, rather than trying to discover the stories behind them. Leliana's tales have given me great material to work with, but we are lucky enough that Aedan still lives that we can document his side of the story: he was after all the one who made many of the major decisions that lead to the success of the Fifth Blight."

"Might take a little coaxing, but we can probably convince him to do it. Now if we can-" Fergus glared back up at the two watchmen, "-if we can just get in!"

"You brought a red head and a bald guy," shouted the young guardsman, "Still not letting you in."

"I'm Sister Leliana, the Left Hand of the Divine." Leliana pulled out a scroll and pointed to the chantry seal on it.

The guardsman squinted at the wax seal from atop the wall and scoffed. "For all I know that could be a bunch of scribbles. Can't let you in."

Fergus rubbed his forehead and swore beneath his breath. He threw his arms in the air. "Go get Aedan!"

"He's out on a mission!" shouted the guardsman back.

"Why the hell are you shouting this early in the morning?" A female figure climbed up the nearby ladder onto the battlements. She walked over to the two guards, then turned to the visitors below. She held a torch out to illuminate their faces. The elf kicked at the younger guardsmen chair. "Maker's sake, open those damn gates. That's actually them." The woman climbed down the ladder as the guardsmen pulled the gate lever. The older watchman stretched out his back, then rotated the gate wheel.

Gears creaked on the other side of the gate. The doors opened inch by inch to reveal an elven woman, her hair tied back in a ponytail. She dusted soil off from her smock and set down her shovel. Fergus took a second to look her over, scratching his head before the thought occurred to him. "You're...Hijaya, right? Teharel's daughter?"

Hijaya held her hand for a handshake before taking it back and offering out both hands for a hug. Fergus hesitated, but returned Hijaya's gesture with a hug. Fergus chuckled, "I'm so sorry, I didn't recognize you for a second. I haven't seen you since the end of the Blight. Took Aedan's job offer, I see."

"Yes, well, every other place I've lived in has been attacked, and this place at least once before I came. There really is no safe place in Ferelden." The elf sighed and leaned on her shovel. "I assume at some point demons will start raining down. Might as well have an army of Grey Wardens outside your family's doorstep."

"Army indeed." Fergus glanced over at the troops trickling out from the barracks and rubbing their tired eyes. Not even his own men woke up this early to practice. "And they train even when he's away?"

"Aedan trains them hard. I think his new favorite word is discipline- somehow he sneaks it into every speech he yells at the men."

Fergus thought back on one particular morning when his brother, in his laziness, had trained Gregory to fetch him fruit from the larder so he wouldn't have to get out of bed. Once Nan and Eleanor Cousland had discovered Gregory rooting through the larder at Aedan's command, they had proceeded to attempt to drag Aedan out of the bed. Fergus remembered walking past the two woman gripping a pair of feet sticking out of a cocoon of blankets and sheets.

"Yes," said Fergus, scratching his head. "Discipline. That seems like Aedan."

Hijaya smiled knowingly at Fergus's skepticism. "I know what you mean." The two shared a laugh.

Fergus pointed up above him. "Anyways, I hope the other wardens are a lot friendlier than that one watchman." He looked back up at the guard post. The younger guardsmen ducked below the post, while the other guard chuckled.

"Don't be too hard on them. Last time the guards let some unknown person in, some fancy dragonbone sword Aedan had commissioned got stolen." The early morning sun now trickled over the horizon, but Hijaya said, "It'll be a couple of hours before they can meet with you. We have beds in the spare barracks if you want to rest. No doubt you've been travelling all night."

As Fergus, Leliana, and Genitivi entered into the spare barracks, he watched a small elf child barrel up to his mother.

"Couldn't sleep, Teharel?" Hijaya reached down and ruffled her child's hair.

The elven child peered around the grounds. "I always get up this early to train with Aedan." He brandished a twig in each hand and posed with them as though they were swords. "You know when he's coming back?"

"Well, Aedan won't be back for a bit, but since you're up, want to help your mom garden?" Hijaya reached into the toolkit about her waist and offered a small trowel to the little Teharel.

"Sure," yawned Teharel. He set aside the twin branches and lay them to rest on the ground, then took the trowel from his mother's hand.

Fergus smiled at the two elves, gave them a wave, then headed off into the barracks to sleep. A brief image of Oren and Oriana flashed in his mind as he pulled the blanket over him. Fergus rolled over on his side and pulled the blanket closer around him.

* * *

By now, the morning market place had been set up outside the keep's main walls. During the construction of the keep, the massive influx of money and construction crews had resulted in a slow trickle of traders and merchants coming by to keep the workers fed and construction supplies well-stocked. Other merchants came to trade with those ones. Eventually, the traders had grown to enjoy the relative safety that Vigil's Keep offered: after all, just as Hijaya had said, who wouldn't feel safer with an army of Grey Wardens at their doorstep? Everyday the traders came and settled in the area between the outer and inner walls of the keep.

Fergus munched on a croissant he bought from the marketplace. He sat within the inner walls of the keep, watching the early morning drills. Wardens sparred with one another using their actual weapons and in full armor.

"I wonder if this is how all Grey Warden outposts are," said Leliana as she sat down next to him. Genitivi followed behind her. She eyed Fergus's croissant. "Where'd you get that?"

"Marketplace." Fergus broke off half his croissant and handed it to her. He stared back at the drills.

"So did Aedan run drills like this at home?" asked Leliana, "He didn't have a chance to train at any Grey Warden outposts."

"Despite his laziness at home, fighting was the only thing he took a shine too. Everyday without fail, though often in the late afternoon once he had finished sleeping in." Fergus laughed while finishing off his croissant. "Maker, he really did love sleeping in."

Genitivi scribbled down in his notebook and nodded at Fergus. "How about you tell me more about Aedan's early childhood. How strict was-"

Out of the corner of his eye Fergus spotted three wardens approaching. He and the other two stood up to greet them. The three Wardens stepped into the courtyard clad in full Grey Warden apparel: a dwarf, an elf, and a human. The dwarf bounced forward to meet Fergus, and eagerly shook his hand. "Wow, so you're Aedan's brother. A lot less stern looking. I'm Sigrun, great to meet you."

The elf approached Fergus and Sigrun, but refused to say anything. She eyed Fergus up and down with an unchanging expression. A familiar black-haired man stepped forward, clad in chainmail with dark blue leather trim. He whispered something in the elf's ear. The blond-haired elf scowled, but offered her hand out to Fergus.

"Velanna," said the tight-lipped elf.

"Fergus," said the Teyrn as he shook the elves hand.

"She's just wary of new people," said the black haired warden, who patted the Velanna on the shoulder. "Her bark is worse than her bite." The elf flicked the other wardens hand off without even giving him a glance. He laughed and turned back to Fergus. His smile dissipated and he cleared his throat. He too offered out his hand to Fergus.

"Nathaniel," said Fergus.

"Fergus," replied Nathaniel. The two men shook hands, but only for a few seconds before breaking and turning away from one another.

"Is that Nathaniel...Howe?" whispered Genitivi into Leliana's ear.

Leliana wrung her fingers within her pockets. "So you two...know each other." Both the men glared at Leliana. The sister shrunk in place.

"Nathaniel actually saved my life once on the roads, when I was travelling from Denerim back to Highever several months ago." Fergus forced a smile. "I owe him a great debt."

Genitivi's eyes darted between Fergus and Nathaniel, as did Leliana's.

"Every damn time I'm in the same room as a Cousland," muttered Nathaniel. He sighed and looked at Fergus. The man rolled his eyes and nodded. Nathaniel turned to Leliana and Genitivi. "Alright, everyone here knows the story. It was shit, it was terrible, but the people here weren't at fault. Can we move on?"

"Agreed," muttered Fergus. Truth be told, he was surprised, angry even, when he had first learned Aedan had conscripted Nathaniel, but Fergus knew deep down Nathaniel had nothing to do with what had happened at Castle Cousland. If his little brother could find it in his heart to tolerate Nathaniel's presence, Fergus had to at least do the same.

Genitivi and Leliana nodded. Nathaniel wiped his forehead and grumbled. A few moments passed in silence before Fergus coughed and spoke up. "Apparently Aedan isn't here."

"Our illustrious Warden-Commander is out."

"I'll just come back later. Do you know when he'll be back?"

"That might be a problem...he was supposed to be back two weeks ago. We would actually send out a search party for him." Nathaniel scratched his chin and glanced at Sigrun. "I can spare some Wardens. It's been a peaceful few months, and our more senior wardens are...raring for some action. I'd be interested in knowing where Aedan has gone exactly. We could use your help- both you and Sister Leliana. We have almost zero information on where he went, and your prior experience with him might help us track him better."

"Well, Genitivi and I have been travelling across Ferelden anyways. Might as well find Aedan while we're at it," said Leliana.

"If Aedan's missing, I'd like to know he's at least safe," said Fergus. "I'm sure the stewards at Castle Cousland can take care of things for a little while longer."

As the shouting of the soldiers running their drill heightened, Nathaniel rubbed at his ear and pointed back inside the Keep. "Let's talk more inside. The drills are about to start in earnest."

While Fergus and the others walked up the steps into the keep, he turned to the dwarven warden. "Sigrun, right?"

Sigrun smiled back up at him. "What's up?"

Fergus once again remembered Aedan with a mug in each hand, finishing both off within a few seconds, before yelling to the heavens then stumbling off the table to find his pants. "I'm sorry, I have to ask- did you call my brother stern?"

The dwarf shrugged. "I mean...stern, but warm? I mean when he's out there barking out orders and being everyone's boss, he can seem a bit cold, but whenever I'm travelling with him, sometimes we have a laugh or two."

As the group entered the main hall, two wardens saluted Nathaniel, who unfurled a scroll and handed it to the men. Fergus eyed a large dragon skull hanging upon the walls of the keep. Genitivi gasped and ran towards it to make a sketch. Fergus followed and peered up at the skull. "Neat dragon skull. Where'd you get it?"

Nathaniel, Velanna, and Sigrun all gave a tired groan at the sight of the skull. "Aedan insisted on bringing it back from the Blackmarsh."

Fergus noted their reaction and raised an eyebrow. "Was it heavy or something?"

"That...wasn't it." Nathaniel looked back up at the skull and shivered. "Let's just get back to business."

"Let's reassemble these weird dragon bones, nothing bad will happen, he said. It'll look cool in the keep, he said," muttered Velanna under her breath.

Though he hadn't heard what the elven warden had said, Fergus still looked at her muttering, angry expression. She whipped back up and glared at him. The Teyrn backed away. "Sure. Back to business." Fergus stepped over next to Nathaniel, over the map of Ferelden. "Do you know what lead he was following?"

Nathaniel pointed over to the southern region of Ferelden. Several model towers lay scattered across the map, each with a gryphon perched atop it. "Apparently there was some suspicious activity in the Kocari Wilds. He wouldn't say more." Nathaniel peered over at the fireplace in the center of the hall. "He just put on his armor and cloak, grabbed Gregory, and threw the report into the fire...we can't go this long without knowing at least where he's gone. I've examined our roster, and we can spare you two." He gestured over at the dwarven warden beside him. "Sigrun here is our best tracker. She'll be your best bet at finding him."

Sigrun rubbed her hands together. "Alright, mission! Legion makes the best trackers, dead or alive. Mostly dead though," laughed the dwarf. "Who else are you sending? Is Renault coming? We haven't gotten to hang out in forever-"

"This is a mission, Sigrun. Not a vacation." Nathaniel crossed his arms and stared down at the dwarf. "Understand?"

The dwarf's shoulders slumped and she frowned, "Yes,  _Warden-Constable_."

Nathaniel thumbed down the roster again. "The second warden we'll be sending with you also knows Aedan very well-"

"NO." Sigrun dropped her head back and groaned while pulling at her hair. "NO. Absolutely not." She stomped her feet into the ground while grumbling.

"I haven't even said-"

Sigrun pointed at Velanna and Nathaniel. "You are just sending me and him out so you two can be alone together."

Nathaniel frowned at Sigrun. "Absolutely not. That's inappropriate."

Velanna scowled. "We're colleagues who respect one another, unlike you dwarf, who respects nothing."

"Now, if you'll excuse us, we will get your other travelling companion." Nathaniel and Velanna moved simultaneously towards the hallways of the living quarters, almost bumping into one another. Nathaniel took a step back. "After you, my lady."

"I told you not to call me that anymore," Velanna seethed, her cheeks taking on a slight blush.

"But you said-"

The two halted their conversation and glanced backwards at Sigrun watching them with a smug smile. Velanna stormed off first down the hallway. Nathaniel glared back at Sigrun, waiting until Velanna had rounded the corner, then headed off after her. A few minutes after Nathaniel had left, Leliana's nose wrinkled and she covered it with her hand. She grimaced at a far off scent. Heavy footsteps grew closer. "Oh, it's him." Leliana half-sighed. "This should be...fun?"

A heavily armored dwarf with a fiery red mop of hair and a dirty beard that fell to his waist strode forth from the hallways. Oghren saluted Fergus with a grin. "Hey! Fergus! How ya doing!" He waved at him with a large swing of his arm, almost knocking down a nearby painting.

Fergus saluted back at the dwarf. For a brief time before the dwarf had become a Warden, he had become a member of the Ferelden army under Fergus's command. "Oghren. Good to see you."

Oghren elbowed the Howe and the Cousland in their sides. "Look at you two! Back in the army, Fergus said you wouldn't have the stone to show your face again, and yet here the both of you are!" The two men narrowed their eyes at the dwarf, but oblivious to their stares, Oghren strode forward to Sigrun and grinned. "Let's face it, Sigrun, who else could do this job but good ol Oghren." The dwarf stretched his arms above his head. As his arms moved, bits of food fell out of his beard.

Sigrun brought her palm to her face and pointed down at the residue on the floor. "Oghren, you forgot to clean your beard after breakfast."

Oghren chortled and gave Sigrun a poke on the cheek. "I haven't had breakfast."

While Sigrun gagged, Leliana stepped over and gave Oghren a pat on the shoulder. "You haven't changed a bit, Oghren."

"Just met back up with me and already trying to get me back in the sack." Oghren winked. Leliana removed her hand from his shoulder and rolled her eyes. Oghren elbowed her hip with his elbow. "I'm kidding, bard- but look at us! We got a Cousland, you, and good ole Oghren together again! All the grumpies are out too: Shale, Sten, and Morrigan!"

At the mention of the last name, Fergus's ears perked up. He saw Leliana glance over at the map of the Kocari Wilds. "I wouldn't count out all the grumpies," she smiled.

* * *

The two guardsmen watched as Fergus Cousland and his companions exited out of the gate on horseback. The younger guardsman held his head in his hands and let out a long, dying groan.

"Kill me now."

The older guardsman doubled over in laughter, slapping his knee. "So not only was he actually who he said he was, but that redhead was Sister Leliana- the freaking Left Hand of the Divine as well?" He walked up to the younger guardsman and slapped him on the back. "You know the Warden-Commander will make you do the pullups with sandbags with him again."

The younger guardsmen groaned again as he banged his head against the keep's wall. "Fuck the Warden-Commander."


	75. Stone

_Shale stared at the_ _approaching_ _warden,_ _illuminated_ _by the_ _hazy_ _campfire and moon light. Whiskey swirled within the glass bottle as Aedan took another swig. He stumbled over to the campfire,_ _almost_ _tripping over himself. When he plopped onto the grass, whiskey splashed out of the bottle onto his_ _already_ _stained shirt. Aedan straightened out his stained shirt and grumbled._

" _I see you're not even bothering with the flask,"_ _remarked the golem._

 _The warden shrugged._ _"What's the pointtt? It's-It's-It's all going to the same place anyways."_ _He_ _looked_ _at his shirt and giggled._ _"Could have also just wrung out my shirt, sure that would have done the trick too."_ _He laughed, laughed, then his laughter died replaced by a hollow sigh. His shoulder slumped forward. His reflection stared_ _back_ _him from the bottom of the bottle. Only_ _a little_ _remained._

 _Now more often than not Aedan came out in the dead of night to drink by the campfire, long after the last fleshy guard slumbered._ _It_ _began_ _after the_ _Brecilian_ _Forest, then increased day after day. Now, after their return from Soldier's Peak after killing_ _Flemeth_ _, Shale_ _could_ _count on seeing Aedan every night. At the_ _very_ _least, the golem_ _had_ _company now, albeit a drunk, slobbering one. During the day the warden at the maintained a modicum of composure, choosing instead to drink from the flask_ _sparingly_ _every so often. By now Aedan_ _had_ _figured out how to use Shale's giant form to his_ _advantage_ _. He_ _would_ _walk behind her, take a swig from his flask, and_ _return back_ _to the sight of others_ _without anyone_ _the wiser. Shale_ _of course_ _noticed, but both she and Aedan_ _knew_ _that_ _the golem didn't care._

" _The others left stew for you,"_ _said_ _Shale._

 _Aedan shivered and gagged at the sight of the leftover stew, filled with big chunks of meat and_ _vegetables_ _._ _"Tastes bad,"_ _he_ _muttered_ _as he slouched_ _down_ _against the floor. He swatted away an_ _imaginary_ _hand._ _"Like clay."_ _As he flailed his arm_ _about_ _, Aedan threw himself off-balance and fell face first into the dirt. The warden groaned and rolled onto his back, then crawled back to the nearby log to put himself in a seated position. He downed another shot from his bottle. The campfire flickered and light hit the bags under his eyes. Shale recalled how months_ _earlier_ _the man offered Shale half his bread. Though the golem_ _could_ _not eat it, she still_ _had_ _brought the crumbled bits to her mouth. He_ _had_ _smiled more back_ _then_ _._

 _Aedan stared into the fire, his expression scrunching up and his lips tightening. He swallowed, gripped at his legs, and murmured something. His eyes closed while he rubbed his face. His voice clenched up and cracked. He gripped the bottle tighter, till a small crack_ _appeared_ _at the base of the bottle. Whiskey dribbled out._ _"Guess I better finish this then,"_ _sighed_ _Aedan, before finishing the bottle. He held his fist to his mouth and lurched forward, but nothing exited his mouth. Shale sighed in relief._

 _Twas_ _not_ _like_ _she_ _had_ _not seen her fair share of drunks back in_ _Honnleath_ _. She_ _had_ _not been far off from the tavern, so often_ _times_ _a drunk wandered over to her and_ _proceeded to piss_ _all_ _over her feet. If there was one thing Shale hated_ _almost_ _as much as the damnable birds, it was the drunks that pissed on her. Although,_ _thought_ _the former dwarf to herself, she_ _would_ _have hated anyone_ _excrementing_ _their waste in her presence even when she was a fleshy creature. At the_ _very_ _least, Aedan_ _exercised_ _the common courtesy to not make a mess, even when he was drunk._ _Perhaps he had lived a far more cleaner life before his warden days, to have the instincts to gather up his bottles before he left, to quietly leave and take care of his biological business, and to, most importantly to Shale, keep his mouth shut._

 _An hour of_ _silence_ _passed between them, their usual routine by now. Though he_ _had_ _gone and_ _replaced his empty bottle with a new one, Aedan's eyes drooped as drifted off into half-sleep, bottle still in hand. The golem grimaced at the sight. She remembered her commander thousands of years ago, during the First Blight. He_ _had_ _been the sole survivor of three separate_ _darkspawn_ _attacks,_ _before being put in charge of his own squad. He_ _had_ _the same empty_ _look_ _in his eyes as Aedan when he brought the bottle to his mouth._

_Even now, Aedan coordinated the rescue efforts of southern Thedas, but they could not save all the villages. One particular village they had gone to rescuing farmers in there, rather than merchants in the next. 'We'll need crops in the coming times', he had told them: he even thought about after the Blight. What was going on in his head? The warden chose to stand by her, to not sacrifice innocents to the anvil, but yet he sacrificed Harrowmont's entire house. Innocents would have, and did, die in either case. The two never talked about why he did it- why he chose to destroy the Anvil, but allowed Bhelen to kill House Harrowmont. How many scenarios, what-ifs, and possibilities did he run through his head? Shale peered at the sleeping warden with his whiskey-stained shirt. Perhaps she already knew the answer- enough to want to drink it all away._

_She_ _learned_ _in her long lifespan to not worry over these sorts of things;_ _after all, she had first been a soldier, following orders, then asleep for thousands of years, then forced to follow Wilhelm, then forced to remain a statue for years on end._ _Never_ _had_ _she needed to make a major decision in her life-_

 _Something itched in the back of Shale's mind._ _A memory flitted amongst the thousands of years worth._

 _There_ _had_ _been a choice._

_Caridin._

_She_ _saw_ _Caridin's face, his real face with his oil-stained beard and sorrowful eyes, as they lowered her into the golem shell. The armor blotted out the furnace's glowing hot light. The bubble of magma_ _almost_ _drowned out her last words. She said them to Caridin with a smile on her face and her chest welled with.._ _._ _something. What was she saying? She_ _could_ _n't_ _hear_ _it,_ _could_ _n't remember it, but why did she remember this moment-_

 _The molten_ _lyrium_ _hit her skin and her screams echoed within the metal cage of the shell. Her skin boiled and the liquid ate away at her flesh and bones. Shale's grip tightened and shook and she forced the memory back into the recesses of her mind as she_ _heard_ _footsteps behind her._

 _The witch approached: Shale_ _had_ _not seen it and the Warden together anymore. One day they_ _had_ _gone into the woods, and the next the witch_ _had_ _ran out clutching its chest. No longer did they bother Shale with their displays of affection nor did any_ _sound_ _escape either of their tents. During the day they did not speak, despite the glances of the other fleshy creatures._

 _The witch crossed its arms and shivered beneath the wind. It hovered above Aedan's sleeping form, watching him. A whiff of his alcohol-ridden breath wafted up into the witch's face and she gagged._ _The witch broke the silence between itself and Shale and asked, "Does he come out here every night?"_

" _Perhaps it should just check for itself instead of bothering me."_ _The_ _golem stayed silent for the oncoming verbal_ _beration_ _, but none came._ _The_ _witch sat next to Aedan._ _The_ _warden turned in his sleep, twitching and sweat dripping_ _across_ _his brow. His hand jolted towards his sword, but did not find it on his side. The witch's hand hovered above his face, but it snapped its hand back. Its knees pressed against its chest as it hugged her arms around its legs._

 _Not even a retort?_ _thought_ _the golem. The witch wrung its hands and bit its lip, looking back at Aedan every once in_ _awhile_ _. As Shale watched the pathetic fleshy creature and its worry, the golem rolled her eyes and sighed._ _"Every night. He does not sleep often."_ _She nodded at Aedan._ _"He'll be awake in a hour or two."_

" _I see."_ _The witch straightened its_ _back,_ _and sat_ _up_ _. It shivered with arms crossed._ _"I do not wish for our illustrious leader to die on his own vomit. Can you please roll him on his side? I cannot."_ _It twisted a stray end of its hair while heading off towards Aedan's tent._

 _The golem rolled the sleeping Aedan over away from the fire with a nudge of her foot. He twitched and shuddered in his sleep, his clammy skin running wet with sweat._ _Returning_ _from Aedan's tent with his blanket crooked in its arm, the witch unfurled the ratty fabric. Shale raised her eyes at the object the witch returned with, but said nothing._

 _The_ _witch lay the blanket across Aedan._ _The_ _warden_ _instinctively_ _pulled the fabric towards him and curled up in a fetal position._ _The_ _wind howled against_ _Shale,_ _and blew the blanket off Aedan._ _The_ _witch caught the blanket just before the wind blew it away. It kneeled next to Aedan again, first wiping his brow of his sweat. It.._ _._ _she.._ _._ _covered the blanket over Aedan once again, this time tucking it beneath his weight._

 _Shale watched the witch as she stood back up and turned her back on Aedan._ _"You could talk to him."_

 _The witch bit her lip._ _"He does not need me to help him. He does not need me...and I do not need him."_ _She strode back to her tent, passing close by Shale. The golem glanced sideways and caught the glimpse of bags beneath Morrigan's eyes. Shale_ _looked_ _back at the sleeping Aedan as a line of drool ran_ _down_ _his chin and he tugged the blanket tighter around himself._

* * *

The small, squishy mage stared up at Shale. The golem eyed it's particularly large ears. One might even mistake it for an elf, but it's ears were too round- almost comically so. It kept staring at her. Shale sneered. The mage trembled while shrivelling in place. Shale sneered again. At least the swamp-witch had been brave enough to keep eye contact.

It's ears were large, but it's head was disproportionately tiny. Why, if Shale just took but two of her fingers and-

"Shale, stop." Aedan tapped his hilt against Shale's side.

The golem scowled and brushed aside Aedan's sword. "What?"

"I know what you're thinking."

"I doubt it."

"You're thinking how easy it'd be to squish his disproportionately tiny head between your fingers."

"Hmm," grunted Shale. "Accurate."

"That's a joke, right?" The circle mage laughed and tugged at it's collar. "Just joking around and having fun?" It looked at Wynne, it's former teacher, sweat dripping down his neck. Wynne rolled her head from side to side and shrugged. The circle mage took two steps back towards Wynne and put the old woman between him and the smiled at her former protege.

"My head isn't disproportionately small, right, Ariane?" stuttered the circle mage from behind Wynne. The elf squinted at the mage's head.

"Well, now that's all I can see now that you've brought it up."

It...he, Finn, trembled as Shale stomped forward. She would have to get used to to calling others by name, or even proper pronouns, if she were to become a fleshy thing again. Despite them doing nothing to deserve distinction from rocks, turds, or other objects of similar status, it was a courtesy that kept people from attacking her and the elderly mage. Diplomacy, as Aedan and Wynne would call it. In hindsight, Shale could have avoided calling one of the top ranking Tevinter magisters "it" and "fleshy creature", and avoided the guards being called on her and Wynne.

Still, thought the golem to herself, this specimen was particularly fleshy and frail. Apparently, Aedan had picked up the finicky mage at the Circle Tower- he had even been a former pupil of Wynne. Using his help, Aedan and the elf had figured out what the object of Morrigan's search, an Eluvian was: an ancient mirror, ransacked from the ancient elven city of Arlathan, and used for communication by ancient Tevinter magisters. The elf apparently knew where one lay in the Brecilian Forest, but apparently the Dalish had shattered it.

The golem scoffed. As one could rely on the elves to keep anything important intact.

Inside the pack slung across her back, ancient lanterns rattled. Aedan, the elf, and the coward had come to her and asked her to guide them back to Cadash Thaig. According to the mage, these ancient lanterns could coupled with the broken Eluvian to find an intact one. Of course, whether one could trust anything a mage said was questionable. Shale remembered how Wilhelm would concoct his own hare-brained experiments upon Shale. Even Wynne was not exempt: Shale had seen how the old mage played and tricked Alistair on many occasions just to see the templar flustered.

The group moved through the crowd of dwarves in the Orzammar Commons. The marketplace bustled, but all the shoppers and merchants glanced towards Aedan and Shale. Ordinarily, Aedan would be wearing a cloak to cover his Grey Warden armor, but their recent journey into the Deep Roads had resulted in it being torn to shreds. Shale watched a pair of dwarves whisper to each other, pointing at Aedan and Shale and backing away. Shale rolled her eyes at the gazing dwarves, while Aedan gave them a smile and wave.

"Have you been back since?" asked Wynne after they exited the busiest part of the marketplace.

Aedan scratched at the back of his neck. "Almost. Someone requested my aid in searching Amgarrak Thaig. We decided that it'd be too public if the Hero of Ferelden entered the deep roads from the Orzammar entrance, so we ended up using another."

"Hopefully it went better than our last visit."

Aedan laughed that hollow laugh Shale had heard so many times before. "Honest to the Maker, I'd rather Branka stab me in the hand again a hundred times over."

"That bad?"

"I'll tell you, Amgaraak's definitely not where you want to plan your next vacation."

As the group passed by a nearby butcher shop, the elf and the circle mage stared at the roasted nug carcass on display in the shop booth. "So you eat the same animals you also keep as pets," stated the elf. She cringed whilst staring at the hanging nug meat. "Why?"

"Have you tasted them?" The merchant sliced off a sliver of nug and handed one to the elf and one to the mage. Both chewed upon it and nodded.

"Okay, I can see why now," murmured Ariane through the nug in her mouth.

Shale looked at the hanging nug. If her stomach could grumble, it would. She still remembered a warm meals with her comrades long ago before she was a golem. Even though they had been soldiers, having to sometimes scrounge around the Deep Roads on missions to find a single morsel, a warm meal was a warm meal.

"By the way, I wish to stop by the weapons shop in Dust Town. As I recall, they are the only place that sells proper gem polish," stated Shale. "My crystals are damaged."

"You look fine to me."

Shale scoffed and showed the Aedan the crystalline structure upon her first. "That Hurlock near the Deep Roads entrance chipped it. Look at it. It's hideous."

"Well, I owe you one. I'll buy that polish for you." Aedan peered at the small chip in the crystal, having to lean in and squint to even see it. "Anyone else want to come to Dust Town?"

"I'm a little tired, I think I'll just wait for you all by the Orzammar gates," said Wynne.

"I'm going to assume that Dust Town lives up to its name, and spare myself the embarrassment of aggravating my allergies," stated Finn. Ariane muttered something through the nug in her mouth. Aedan shrugged his shoulders and shook his head at Ariane's incomprehensible words. Ariane rolled her eyes, pointed at Finn and the nearby food booths, and waved off Aedan and Shale.

* * *

The shadows of the back alleys of Dust Town covered Shale's figure. Aedan suggested they take the back roads, as he wished to avoid the potential stares from the inhabitants. The last time he had been here, the streets ran red with the Carta's blood. While some might view him as a hero, the Carta had mostly casteless members. No doubt many of those who still lived in these slums had family within. Shale didn't blame Aedan for choosing to lay low.

Aedan's eyes darted to his side. His nose twitched. "Someone's following us. Medium build, heavy footsteps, most likely a dwarf." Aedan sniffed the air. "Hasn't bathed in awhile. Casteless?"

"Probably wants to rob or kill you." Shale glanced behind her to see a flitter in the shadows.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, they know they can't stab  _me_  to death...and I don't have any pockets."

"Have you considered buying pants?"

"I considered that once, but it's hard to find things in my size."

"I know a good tailor- oh, here he comes." Aedan sidestepped out of the way as the hooded dwarf lunged out of the shadows at him. The attacker skidded against the ground. The dwarf growled and unhooked an explosive flask. Aedan ducked behind Shale as the golem swatted aside the explosive. The alleyway rocked with flames.

"This is also why I didn't get the pants," said Shale as she brushed the soot off her stone body.

Just as the dwarf reached into his cloak for more explosives, Aedan rushed at him shield first and bashed him in the face. The dwarf landed on one hand and propelled himself back upright. He sliced upwards at Aedan with a blade upon his wrist. Aedan dodged the blow and chopped the man's neck with his open palm, sending him careening into the ground. As the dwarf reached for his dagger a foot away, Aedan stepped on the dwarf's exposed wrist., then throttled him into the ground throat-first. The dwarf, bags under his eyes and dirt covering his face, sputtered beneath Aedan's grip. A grimy beard covered his lower face, and various scars and burns covered his upper.

"Do you know who I am?" wheezed the dwarf. He gurgled up the blood in his mouth to spit, but Aedan covered his face with his gauntlet as the dwarf spat blood and saliva at Aedan. The warden pressed the man's throat into the ground. The dwarf gritted his teeth and struggled against his bindings. He glared at Aedan again, tears in his eyes. "Do you even know who I am? I am Faris Harrowmont," said the dwarf. "the last of my house!"

Aedan's grip on the dwarf's throat loosened, but still pinned him to the ground. His hands clawed at Aedan's arm. The warden stared down at Faris. His lips tightened and his face paled.

"Do you have nothing to say?" raged the dwarf, "You sold us out to Bhelen! You let us be slaughtered! I've had to live here amongst the casteless, hiding like some kind of criminal!" The tears that had welled up in his eyes now dripped down his cheeks as he kicked his legs against the ground to try and break free of Aedan's iron grip. Still the warden said nothing. "Did you even know any of their names?" roared Faris, "Do you even think about them, you monster?"

Aedan blinked at the man, with only a suppressed quiver at the edge of his lips escaping him.

"Say something, you bastard!" screamed the dwarf.

The grip around Faris's throat tightened. Shale watched Aedan lean in closer towards Faris. "I'm going to give you a choice. Just like I had a choice. I chose between the survival of all of Thedas or your house, and I would do it again."

Faris attempted to throw his body weight sideways to escape Aedan's grip. His limbs flailed at the warden as he gritted his teeth. His fingers clawed at Aedan's armor. "I'll kill you! By the Ancestors, I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you!"

Ignoring the struggling dwarf beneath him, Aedan continued on in a slow, quiet voice. "A lot of what happens to us is out of our control, so when you're lucky enough to get a choice, think long and hard about it." Aedan paused and took a deep breath in. "You have three options. I take you into prison. The guards will beat you to a bloody pulp. Bhelen will attempt to torture you. If what you said is true and you have no remaining relatives, he will torture for information you do not have, till you expire from the pain or blood loss." Aedan narrowed his eyes. "I wouldn't take option one."

The warden's sword rustled as he patted it. "Option two." His voice icy, Aedan drew a line across his throat. "I kill you." Faris's struggle ceased for a brief moment as his face went pale. Aedan waited till the color returned to the man's face, before saying his final words: "Or option three: you leave, and I never see you again."

"How about option four?" growled Faris. He yanked a hidden dagger out from his back. Aedan stood dead still as Faris jabbed the edge straight into Aedan's throat. Blood sprayed against the dwarf's face, and he clawed at Aedan's hand upon his throat. His face went blue as the grip tightened against his throat. His gaze wandered back up at to the blood soaked Aedan. "Ob-fun wun," slurred Aedan through the knife in his throat. He grabbed the knife with his hand. Blood splattered as Aedan yanked it out. "Opshun tuu." The skin and flesh mended right before the dwarf's horrified eyes. Aedan rubbed at the mending wound, ground his teeth, and handed the knife back to the dwarf. "Or option three. There is no option four: killing me, because even if I couldn't do this-" Aedan gestured to the raw scar tissue on his neck. "You still wouldn't be able to kill me, considering I let you stab me there."

"Then I'll find the ones you love-"

Aedan's fingers dug into Faris's throat. "A man betrayed and killed my entire family just because he wanted our titles, and so I killed him. Do you know what changed the next day?" Aedan smiled and gripped the man's throat till the words could no longer even sputter out. "If you really wanted justice, you'd go after Bhelen as well...but you'll just settle for me, because I'm the only one you can reach. You know what'll happen if you kill me? If you kill him? Nothing. You still feel empty inside. You still feel their absence. The rage is still there, but it dies, and all you're left with is-" Aedan paused. Shale watched his eye twitch and the side of his lip quiver, "-nothing." Aedan's grip on the man's throat loosened. "Make something new. There's nothing left for you here in Orzammar. Head to the surface."

"There's nowhere left for me to run," wheezed Faris, "Carta's everywhere."

"You've survived this long, by yourself? Quite capable. There's one place that can take you, where you'd be safe from Bhelen." Aedan pointed at the emblem upon his armor, but Faris spat at Aedan's face. The man blocked the projectile with his hand, and flung the spit back onto the ground.

Faris snarled back up, "Become a Grey Warden under you, the man responsible for the death of my house? I still have my pride, Warden. Go to hell."

Aedan shook his head. "So here we are then."

Faris ceased his struggling. His limbs lay still upon the ground. "Here we are." He glanced at Aedan's sword. "Do it, you monster," he croaked, a deep ache in his trembling, tired words. "Just do it." Faris's head turned to the side, and a stream of tears dripped down his eyes into the dirt below.

Aedan released his grip and tossed the bloodied dagger back to Faris. "If you want that, do it yourself." He stood back up and picked his shield back up off the ground.

"You coward." The dwarf wiped away his tears and struggled against the clenched sobs from his throat. "How can you just walk away like none of this is your fault? Do you even regret it?" asked Faris as Aedan turned his back on him.

Aedan's gaze shifted backwards and the man took a long breath in. "Always," whispered the warden back, "Till the end of my days."

The dwarf and the warden shared a single glance, before Faris rubbed his neck, picked up his dagger, and staggered off into the alleyways of Dust Town. Aedan too rubbed his neck as Shale walked up next to him. Shale glanced at the still healing scar upon Aedan's neck. The warden coughed and sputtered as the wound faded.

"Come on," croaked Aedan, pointing towards the shops of Dust Town. "Let's get that gem polish."

The golem turned away from the shops. "I am good," stated Shale, "I do not need it. Let us finish with this city and leave." Aedan grunted in response and followed behind the golem.

The two walked back to the commons, with not a single word passing between them. As they exited Dust Town back into the Orzammar Commons, two armed city guardsmen with casteless brands upon their faces gave Aedan a nod. The Warden nodded back, but still his grim expression had not changed. Shale glanced at the pensive man. Of course he still thought about that day when he had to choose between House Harrowmont and the dwarven army. The question that had lingered on Shale's mind for years now rose to the surface: why destroy the golems, but not save House Harrowmont?

Shale looked all about the bustling marketplace. Perhaps, this, right here, was the answer. When last they visited Orzammar, booths were sparse, and what goods they had were mostly equipment and furniture. Now a bustling agricultural section of the market had arisen, where fresh vegetables and fruits had come on sale, no doubt from the surface. Bhelen's trade deals came through, he added the casteless to the army, and even now whispers of his reforms had spread even beyond Orzammar. Shale even heard Bhelen was considering dissolving the Assembly. Whether or not it was good or bad, Shale couldn't tell, but perhaps it was better than the endless descent into ruin the Assembly threatened to bring about by their adherence to their archaic ways.

Yet pure pragmatism was not Aedan's sole motivator. If it was, he would have chosen to keep the Anvil. Though Aedan would have lost Shale, he would have gained an army of golems, all completely obedient. There was a line between pragmatism and idealism, but where it lay, Shale knew not- but she knew the man beside her as one of the few who dared walk that line, who dared to draw that line.

Before Shale had a chance to speak up, the two rounded the corner to gates of Orzammar, where a crowned dwarf stood with a procession following behind him. King Bhelen stepped forward, as the commoners about him got on their knees and bowed. The guards turned on their heels, weapons at attention, to face their king as he marched through the crowd. He wiped aside small embers that lingered upon his royal armor. Shale did her best to keep from scowling. Aedan greeted Bhelen with a nod. "Bhelen." His hands remained at his side.

Bhelen glanced once at Aedan's hand, and let his too remain at his sides. The king nodded back. " _King_  Bhelen. Have you already forgotten about the crown you put on my head?" The king smiled warmly and flicked his finger against the ornate Paragon-forged crown. "Although, it has been quite some time since you were last here." The king gave a wave to his adoring crowd and blew them a kiss. "I had hoped to receive your report about Amgarrak in person last time you were here, but apparently you were in a hurry to leave. Funny how you always seem to deprive us of golems, and yet here you are with your own personal one." Bhelen rapped his knuckles against Shale's leg. Shale's head creaked towards Bhelen.

 _Diplomacy diplomacy diplomacy diplomacy_ , repeated Shale in her head. One might suggest to her to 'think happy thoughts', but the happiest thought she could think of was crushing Bhelen's fat little neck under her foot.

"That research was better left buried," said Aedan, "Jerrik Dace and his brother agreed."

"Not sure it's your right to decide Dwarven affairs, but your choices have always ended well for me." Bhelen smiled and waved again at the passing crowd. "Look at us. The Hero of Ferelden and the King of Orzammar. Practically gods to these people. You should come by more. It's not often they get to see a legend like you."

"I'm used to the cold of the mountains. The furnaces all over the city overheat me. I'll pass."

Bhelen grinned and beckoned towards the palace. "Come. We've got some servant girls who'll fan us while we eat. Let's have a meal you and I. I'm sure the surface has plenty of trade deals they'd love to make in exchange for our lyrium supply." He held his arms in welcome and beckoned over to the royal palace.

Shale detected a low growl in Aedan's voice as the warden replied to the king, "I'm in hurry, Bhelen. No time to stop for a meal."

"That's  _King_  Bhelen." Bhelen's smile faded. His outstretched arms now crossed over his chest. "And it's rather impolite to refuse a king. What could beat feasting with me? Come, we can open up a vintage wine."

"No. I'm sorry. I've got places to be." Aedan moved to walk past the king, but the dwarven leader slid into his path and blocked his escape. The warden cracked his neck and glared down at Bhelen. "I suggest you move."

Bhelen chuckled, leaned in, and whispered to Aedan, but loudly enough that Shale could still hear him. "Do you think you're better than me?" Bhelen glanced up at Aedan face and snorted. "No, I can see it on your face, I don't need you to tell me. Let me tell you something however: you allowed me to do everything I've done. You're just as complicit in this as me. I bet you think I'm some kind of monster-"

Aedan chortled at the word. He chuckled and slapped Bhelen on the shoulder. "I've seen monsters, Bhelen. Creatures that haunt my dreams to this very day." Aedan voice grew deep and scratchy. "Creatures that would rip the flesh off your face and wear it." The warden paused, narrowed his eyes at Bhelen, and clenched his fist. "All you are is an ambitious snake, who couldn't let go of his pride long enough to consider the people whose lives he ruined, and how pointless what he did was."

Bhelen grinned, shook Aedan hand, and chuckled. "Get the hell out of my city, you sanctimonious prick," he sneered. A scowl flashed across his face, out of sight of the public. Aedan trudged past Bhelen, bumping into his shoulder, and headed off towards the gates of Orzammar.

* * *

Outside the gates of Orzammar, in the bustling marketplace that took place in the area outside, Shale and Aedan searched for their friends.

"You okay?" asked Shale.

"Not really, Shale." Aedan groaned and rubbed at the fading wound on his neck again. "I fucking hate that city."

Shale grunted in agreement. The two spotted Wynne, Arianne, and Finn sitting in a nearby clearing, finishing up their lunch.

"I got you a sandwich," said Wynne, holding up a hefty bundle as Aedan approached. Lettuce and tomato peeked out of the wrapping. "Figured you might be hungry."

Aedan beamed at the sight. "Been walking all day- I could use a breather." He eased onto the ground next to Wynne and groaned.

"Oh, you're still young. Stop complaining." Wynne handed the sandwich off to Aedan.

"Long day, Wynne." While Aedan unwrapped his meal, Ariane's eyes kept wandering to the marketplace, where surface dwarves wares, filled with sculptures and other trinkets, lined the tables. Aedan noted her wandering eyes and shoved her towards the marketplace by the shoulder. "Just go. I'll let you know when I'm done."

Ariane beamed and motioned over at Finn to follow her towards the trinkets shop. Wynne lifted herself up and stretched out her limbs, her bones cracking. "A curious one, that elf," she noted.

"Well, you spend your entire life in one place, one home, you're bound to see new and exciting things. Aedan grumbled as he took the first bite out of his sandwich. "Well, I definitely got to see new things. Just buckets of fun."

Shale chuckled at the warden's sarcasm while Wynne set off to follow Finn and Ariane.

"Back to Tevinter then?" asked Aedan of his golem companion.

"Accompany the old mage back to Tevinter, I suppose," sighed Shale, "She is a mage, so I need her, and she is old, so she needs me."

"I heard that," shouted Wynne right before she disappeared into the marketplace.

"Good," replied Shale. Whilst Aedan chuckled alongside her, the golem turned to her companion. "Since we shall not be seeing each other for quite some time, I have a question I wish to ask."

"Go ahead. It's a hearty sandwich- it's going to take awhile." Aedan nodded between bites. "Good choice, Wynne, good choice," he murmured.

Shale wrung her massive hands. Bits of dirt and stone fell from between her palms. "Why did you kill Branka? Why didn't you save the anvil?"

Aedan took another bite from his sandwich, wiping a small dab of mayonnaise from the corner of his mouth. His laughter and smile faded. "Little late to be asking that."

"You were willing to sacrifice House Harrowmont, and yet when it came to the Anvil...you chose to help us golems." Her voice wavering, the golem thought back to the countless nights she saw the sleepless Aedan drink away his problems. "Sometimes I think that if you kept the Anvil, you could have told Bhelen to go to hell with his dwarven army and save House Harrowmont, and you'd be better off, without so much regret."

Scratching his head, Aedan took a deep sigh in. He didn't answer for a while, instead chewing on his sandwich and staring at the marketplace. He hand tugged on his legs as he brought his knees close to his chest. "I couldn't have known that at the time and even if I knew it...I'd choose the same way. As for regret...I don't think regret's bad. If I forgot it then I'd have lost a little piece of myself. I'd end up like Bhelen: remorseless and without pity." Aedan scratched at his right side, where years ago his flask had once been. "But I don't want to let it consume me either. I could torture myself with hypotheticals and possibilities. Hell, I've done that so much before." Aedan's hand left his right side, and rested upon the grassy ground beneath him. "Or I could sit with here with someone I won't see for awhile. I can have a nice chat on a cool sunny day while I eat my sandwich." Aedan raised his sandwich to Shale, took another bite, and smiled up at the sun. "You just learn to live with it, I guess."

"You're still not answering my question. Why?"

"Come on. My friend, the one person in the world who knew the horrors the Anvil had brought, needed help." Aedan chewed on his sandwich and swallowed. "It's a good enough reason that I'd do it again, knowing full well what was to come." He patted the standing Shale on the back.

At that moment, Shale recalled the muffled sounds she whispered to Caridin so long ago, as he lowered into her golem shell. She still couldn't remember the exact words, but the warmth that welled up in her chest was the same as she looked upon the peaceful Aedan. Though the searing pain of molten magma and lyrium had forever scarred that day, the feeling still remained, lingering in her memories and now this moment. The golem placed her hand on Aedan's shoulder, engulfing it.

"You do know you just slapped my bottom."

Aedan's eyes widened and he choked on his sandwich. Shale chuckled as pieces of lettuce and bread sputtered out of his mouth. As Aedan wiped his face of his food, he looked up at the golem and laughed as well. "Well, no meal with Bhelen, but how about you and I eat, for old times sake?"

The golem held out her hand as Aedan dropped torn off pieces of his sandwich into it. "This is nice for now," said the golem, observing the bit of sandwich Aedan had given her, "but you and I will have a meal together one day. A real one. I promise."

Aedan nodded. "I'll hold you to that."

Shale slammed onto her bottom next to Aedan. She squashed the food against her face, and the crumbs scattered across her body. A blinding ray of sunlight hit Aedan in the face. He held his hand up to shield himself.

"Sun's nice today."

"Yes."

A cloud passed by overhead and the sunlight dampened. The two leaned back on their arms and stared up the sky, still as statues.


	76. Moment

Oghren hunched over a letter and scratched at his head. He swatted away the night flies that lingered near the fire. As Fergus brought more firewood over to the campsite, Oghren waved him over. "You, older Cousland, get over here. Your brother usually proofreads my letters before I send them to my son. You're probably good with words and shit."

Fergus shrugged and held out his hand. "Why not." Oghren handed the letter off to him, and exchanged his pen for a beer. Fergus held the letter up to the light and squinted at the scribbles.

"Dearest son," started Fergus, "Boy do I have a story to tell you. The Warden-Commander went off and got himself lost, so they sent out good ol Oghren to go and round him up. The commander has made this a difficult-" Fergus's eyes widened. "I think you meant to say hunt here."

"I did. H-U-N-T."

"No, you sort of wrote the 'h' sideways, so it looks like c-"

Oghren spat out his beer. "Whoops," cringed Oghren, "good thing you caught that. Felsi would have killed me if she saw it- provided she isn't burning the damn letters before she reads them."

Fergus continued on like that. Several words he corrected due to Oghren's shoddy handwriting, though none as egregious as the first mistake. Though, for someone who swore and made crass comments almost constantly, the letter was surprisingly clean in nature. "And finally," said Fergus as he neared the end of the letter, "I want you to remember-"

The dwarf lept out of his seat and snatched the paper back from Fergus. "Don't read that last part out loud! Others will hear!" he grunted. His eyes darted about, making sure no one else was around. As he sat back down, Sigrun darted from the shadows and snatched the paper from Oghren and held it out of reach. His arms flailed at Sigrun as she jabbed him repeatedly in the stomach to keep him of.

"Remember that I always love you and keep you close in my heart. Stay strong, you little bugger. Love, Father," snickered Sigrun. "Oh, that's adorable. There's a soft side underneath all that grime and muscle after all."

"Shut up, woman." Oghren hid his beet red face in his hands. Fergus chuckled as he watched Sigrun and Oghren bicker over the letter. Oghren grumbled with crossed arms as Sigrun poked him and apologized over and over.

Despite their antics, the two worked well together on the battlefield. The travelling party had run afoul of some bandits just that day, ones who were bold enough to attack them despite the Grey Warden heraldry Sigrun and Oghren wore. While Oghren had rushed in and wailed upon the majority of them, Sigrun used her fellow dwarf as a distraction and zipped between the blades to disarm and restrain all the bandits.

The journey so far however hadn't been quite so dangerous, but rather filled with travel. The first place Fergus and the others checked was Lothering. A small trading outpost had been set up near the grounds of the former village. A recent attempt to recolonize the lands and establish the village once more had been made, but the farmlands had been blighted beyond repair. Those who once lived in the village now migrated to Redcliffe, or set up shop in the trading outpost. Aedan passed by with an elf and Gregory, but only one person had seen him: he had taken up wearing his cloak once more.

The leads took them to the Frostback Mountains, where Aedan was said to have entered the Deep Roads with an elf, two mages, and a golem. The dwarves spoke of his brother in hushed whispers, but they told Fergus Aedan journeyed towards the Brecilian Forest. Apparently he had brought some ancient relics into the forest. A chance encounter with the Dalish had given them their most recent lead: apparently, Aedan was headed towards Denerim and in a rush.

Surprisingly, the one who had been the most helpful throughout this entire process had been Oghren. Despite his rather cavalier attitude towards hygiene and manners, neigh perhaps because of it, many of the leads they had gotten were due to the dwarf. The man in Lothering had been homeless, and Oghren had managed to coax Aedan's location out of him. The dwarves of course, despite Oghren's surfacer status, still respected him enough as a warrior to answer his question. The elves of course despised humans enough that they would only talk to Oghren and Sigrun. None of Fergus's noble connections in the towns they visited had been able to provide any useful information. In Oghren words, Fergus recalled, 'Aedan ain't gonna waste no time asking for directions or meals from nobles and the like. He's going to ask the people who pave the roads and grow the food: the farmers, the traders, and the salt of the earth.'

Indeed, ever since the end of the Blight, Aedan had always had a preoccupation with the farmlands. When Fergus had seen some of the other nobles at the Landsmeet, many of them had complained about Aedan's funding and protection towards the farmlands. Perhaps of course, this was simply the next evolution of his obsession with food, but Aedan was one of the few who could visit the southern wastelands of Ferelden without dying from exposure to the Blight. Only they saw the true extent of what the Blight had done to their farmlands.

Many of Fergus's arls had suffered peasant revolts due to lack of food. Even Aedan in Amaranthine hadn't been able to fully supply his subjects with enough grain in the early months after the Blight. Fergus had heard of a revolt at Vigil's Keep, one that Aedan had to put down. No one had been killed, but whispers of the bloodied results of the battle lingered amongst the nobles. No further revolts occurred in Amaranthine since that time. When Fergus had asked about at the last Landsmeet, Aedan had grimaced and looked away.

Fergus's mind lingered on that serious expression of Aedan's, but as Sigrun left towards her tent she accidentally bumped into the log Fergus sat upon, jostling him out of his thoughts. Fergus turned to Oghren beside him as the dwarf rubbed at his face and pocketed the letter.

"Didn't know you had a wife and son though."

"Ex-wife," said Oghren.

"Ah." Fergus scratched at his chin and looked away.

The dwarf shrugged. "Thought I'd try it out...but fighting's in my blood. No good at that family stuff." Oghren made a sour frown. "Couldn't leave the little blighter alone." He glanced away into the distance and gave a little chuckle. "I wasn't sure about it, but your little brother convinced me to stay in contact with my son. Very insistent about it."

"He was close with our father," replied Fergus, "We both were. He probably thinks your kid loves it when you're around."

"Bah, he's not even old enough to distinguish chocolate from nug droppings, he doesn't know better." Oghren took a long swig from his ale and wiped the resulting foam from his beard. "Still...I'd like to be better father. Reminds me of what your brother is always spouting off. 'Don't just be a Warden...be better'. Little dramatic, but I can see what he's saying." Oghren shook his head and laughed. He offered Fergus a container of his ale sitting beside him. The teyrn gave a small nod and took a swig. He coughed on the liquid, taking a few moments to swallow and catch his breath.

"Speaking of my brother," said Fergus as his coughing died down, "how was Aedan during the Blight? I've never actually talked with anyone about what he did then. Even Eamon could only tell tales of watching Aedan do what he did from a distance. You were one of the few who were there beside him."

"Good, I guess. Aedan managed, and we're all here now. That should count for something. I think if a lesser man were in his place, we'd all be ogre feed right about now. How was he? He-" Oghren looked at the ale in his hand. He grimaced and a took a long chug from it. "He carried a lot."

"He used to smile more," said Fergus, "He used to be more..jovial..and energetic. I'd always see him doing something around the castle, whether it be napping or helping out Nan or pestering my parents. Nowadays, well the times I do get to see him, he's almost always working." Fergus drummed his fingers against his leg. "Maybe it was bound to happen...little Aedan growing up."

"He was always spirited with Morrigan," said Leliana from behind, approaching from her tent. She sat down next to Fergus, who handed her the ale.

"I actually met her once," said Fergus, "She saved my life and brought me back to Denerim. She was-" Fergus recalled one instance of the black-haired mage berating him for not keeping his medicine down, then promptly glaring at him until he did so. The teyrn struggled for the proper word to described the mage. "Strict."

"I was going to say something that rhymes with witch," muttered Oghren.

"Oh, she's not that bad," laughed Leliana as she waved off Oghren's comment. "Though I think that Aedan was the one who brought out that softer side of her, and she him. When they were together, they smiled more. They argued more. They talked more. You would just look at them and…" Leliana let out a wistful chuckle. "It was nice to watch them."

"Jealous?"

"A little," mused Leliana. Her eyes glanced at Fergus and Oghren as they both raised an eyebrow. She held up both hand and laughed. "Not in that way! He's a little too...pensive for my tastes. It was more…" Leliana scratched her cheek and tilted her head to the side. "Do you ever remember the happiest moment of your life?" she whispered. The question lingered as the three about the fire mulled over Leliana's words. Oghren tucked his letter deep into his pockets and gave it a pat. Fergus leaned forward, resting his face upon his clasped hands.

"Perhaps," said Fergus, looking away. His hand clenched about one another. "It's...hard to pinpoint it." He scraped at his skin with one of his fingernails.

Leliana leaned back and stared up at the starry night sky. "Sometimes I think it may have been back in Orlais...with someone...but other times I think it's a different moment…I remember when I first entered the chantry in Lothering. The peace I found. The love I found in the Maker's teachings." Her voice quieted. "But ever since I left Orlais and Lothering, those moments have passed, and it's simply been...work. Waking up and going through the motions each day. During the Blight, it was fighting the darkspawn and other threats. Nowadays, it's dealing with the Divine's tasks." Leliana glanced over at the campfire before her, then at the empty seats besides her. "Sometimes I'd see those two by the campfire. They wouldn't even be talking, touching, or even looking at each other. They were...content. Sometimes I wonder if I'll have that again."

A stray bang of red hair obstructed her vision. Leliana brushed the hair out of her eyes to get a better view of the stars. She hummed a song under her breath while she stared at the constellations. Fergus and Oghren listened to the bard continue her song, the two of them drinking in silence. As her song ended, Leliana leaned back and rubbed at her tired eyes. Fergus watched as her smile faded.

"You know, the last time I saw Aedan," said Fergus, breaking the silence, "I asked him that same question."

* * *

_The winds of Highever rustled the orange and red trees of Highever. A dead leaf blew into Fergus's face while he rode down the hillside. Since it blocked his vision, the teyrn scrapped it off, only to see a lone figure, Aedan, round the corner road towards him on horseback. Aedan gave his brother a small salute. Fergus's horse galloped up to Aedan's. The light glinted off the same armor Aedan slew the Archdemon in and right into Fergus's eyes. The teyrn covered his vision with his arm. You didn't have to come in armor for this," laughed Fergus, "No dragons about these ways."_

_Aedan pondered for a moment and frowned. "When you see an old lady transform into a dragon, you'll know anything can happen."_

_Fergus narrowed his eyes at Aedan. "...How many of these stories are you just bullshitting me?"_

_"Almost none." A lopsided smile appeared at the corner of Aedan's mouth. "That's the sad part. Besides, lot of nobles here tonight." Aedan wiped a smudge of dirt off the shining grey armor. "They all really like seeing me in my armor. 'Oh my, is that the armor you slew the Archdemon in, my word!'" Aedan held his hand to his mouth in mock amazement._

_"I do hope you don't mock them to their faces."_

_"Fergus, I'm the essence of cordiality."_

_"You should be. Laying the final stones in a castle is always a momentous night." Fergus rolled his eyes and beckoned his brother around the bend of a hill. "Come on." Horse hooves clopped against the paved dirt road. The two turned the corner over the hillside. Fergus outstretched his arms and gestured to the towering castle of stone before them. The Cousland heraldry hung over the walls and flapped in the wind._

_"Welcome home, Aedan."_


	77. Memory

_Aedan's calloused hands blocked the glare of the yellow sun though small rays slipped through the cracks and into his eyes. He squinted and peered up at the rebuilt Castle Cousland and frowned. "That tower didn't use to be there," he said, pointing up at the watchtower erected above the main gates. "And you colored the walls a different shade of grey."_

_"Well, the main gate collapsed," replied Fergus, "so we added some reinforced steel beams to help hold up an additional tower. As for the color, I tried to get the original quarry to supply the stones, but they were all out."_

_"Hmm." Aedan continued staring at the castle as the two trotted towards the gates. "Still, you got the outside done right. Lopsided on the right side though."_

_"The old one was lopsided. This one is symmetrical."_

_"Oh."_

_As the two men dismounted their horses in the stable and walked over to the main entrance, Fergus said, "A lot of the foundations collapsed from fire damage. Someone new designed the castle interiors, so the room layout is... different. Just a warning."_

_The brothers proceeded through the main door. Aedan set down his dusty brown bag on the floor as he peered from hallway to hallway. His joints cracked as he stretched his arms wide. "Which hallway goes where?"_

_Fergus squinted down the left hallway. "That one goes down to the kitchen...I think."_

_"You think?" Aedan flicked his brother in the arm. "You live here. You're getting old, brother. Can't even remember the layout of your castle."_

_Fergus flinched as he rubbed the spot where Aedan had flicked him. "Shut up. I've been living in Denerim- only moved in here a few weeks ago."_

_Aedan continued to look around the hallways. His gaze wavered. His nostrils flared as he took in two sharp breathes. "Are you cooking something? I think one your chefs is burning food."_

_"Preparations for the feast haven't begun yet."_

_"Oh. Okay." A dab of sweat shimmered off Aedan's brow._

_Fergus noted his brother's hesitation and frowned. "You okay?"_

_"Yeah," half-laughed Aedan, "Just a little sweaty from the ride over." A servant zipped over to hand Aedan a handkerchief on a platter. Aedan stared at the object and picked it up with a ginger grip. "Oh...uh...thanks." He raised an eyebrow at Fergus and waved the handkerchief at him. "They all rush over in a instant? I don't even remember our old servants being that eager."_

_"Well they're not supposed to be waiting on any one person in particular, but these ones seem to think you need constant attention." Four servants had already gathered about Aedan and Fergus._

_"Why?" asked Aedan._

_"You are the Hero of Ferelden. Perhaps people appreciate you."_

_"That's rubbish."_

_"Or perhaps they've noticed the tracks your boots have brought in."_

_Aedan stared down at the trail of brown dirt following his greaves and the various servants that had already swept upon the grime with brooms and buckets._

_"Yeah, that's probably it."_

_"They don't teach you hygiene over at Vigil's Keep?"_

_"Fergus, there's either blood, sweat, or armor grease on every soldier in that place. Not enough handkerchiefs in the world."_

_"The Orlesians would beg to differ."_

_"Don't get me started on the time the Orlesian ambassador came by. 'Oh no, this place smells like wet dog!' Every damn time I meet one of them." Aedan waved his hands in the air and rolled his eyes._

_"Remove your armor before you drag more dirt in. You've got to be boiling in there."_

_"I'm good. Feels weird wearing noble clothing anyways." Aedan stretched his arms out and rotated his upper body from side to side. "Been travelling the last few days, haven't had time to train in awhile. You got a barracks here?"_

_"I'm sure the troops will be happy to spar with you."_

_"Not when I'm done with them," muttered Aedan._

* * *

_Fergus stood at the head of the table and clinked his glass. He stared out over the long table, filled with Arls and Banns alike. They had on fine wools tonight, not cotton or silk, for the cold of Highever brought a shiver to even the heartiest of Ferelden. Their main course, a slow simmered pork chop doused with gravy with a side of roasted greens, lay in front of each, a small column of steam arising from each meal. The cooks had taken a little too long to cook the meals and by now the nobles had ingested much of their wine without substantial food in their stomachs. Now when turned to listen to him, they had much more amicable expressions than Fergus was expecting._

_"I'd like to thank you all for coming. We've endured these past few years for the teynir. Losing my parents as rulers, the rule of Rendon Howe, and the fallout from the Blight...but today we begin the revitalization of northern of Ferelden. Let us build a Highever that we can be proud of."_

_The nobles clapped as Fergus sat back down at the head of the feast table. On his left, Aedan began digging into his meal. Though still in his armor, Aedan had taken off his gauntlets in order to grasp his utensils. Fergus caught glimpse at Aedan's hands. His right hand held the silver fork. A gnarled scar peeked out from his palm. Aedan brought a slice of meat up to his mouth and his palm turned inward, revealing the exit wound scar on the back of his hand. A splotch of sauce lingered at the edge of Aedan's mouth. "Knife wound," said Aedan. He dabbed at the sauce with the corner of a folded napkin._

_"What?" asked Fergus._

_Aedan waved his scarred hand. "You kept staring."_

_"Sorry," laughed Fergus, "it's just a very noticeable scar. Darkspawn?"_

_"No," said Aedan. His gaze grew distant and he rubbed the scar. "Dwarf." His fingers ran down the gnarled scar and he poked at it. The darkened lump stood out amongst from the rest of hand's skin."I wasn't good about letting it heal.. It would have ended up better if I hadn't opened it up a dozen times afterwards."_

_Aedan fell silent and motioned at the servant carrying the water jug. She hurried over and refilled his glass. Aedan's eyes darted about the dining room. He frowned at the sight of the grandiose chandelier, filled with flickering candles, and shifted in his chair. Suddenly a servant carrying a platter of empty dishes stumbled as she was passing by him. The dishes clattered. Aedan jolted in place. One hand gripped the table and his other reached towards his right side, out of side of the public. Fergus glanced to see the outline of a holstered knife and Aedan's fingers over the leather clasp._

_"I'm so sorry, m'lord!" apologized the servant as she caught her footing. The corner of Aedan's mouth untensed and a smile arose._

_"It's alright." Aedan stood up and helped rearrange the dishes upon the servant's tray, stacking the heaviest at the bottom and the cups on top. "Sure you're not an Archdemon? Gave me a little scare there." Some of the surrounding nobles chortled while the servant girl blushed and looked away._

_Fergus chuckled and patted his brother on the back. "Come on, Aedan. Relax a little. You're back home. No monsters round these parts. You're safe here."_

_"Right," said Aedan whilst clearing his throat, "Right." His fork scraped against porcelain as he pushed his food about on his plate in little circles._

* * *

_The hours passed and Fergus was ushered from one noble to the next, each eager to get in the good graces of the Teyrn. An endless sea of nobles dressed in their finest wool mobbed both him and his brother. As the crowd jostled around Aedan, Fergus watched his younger brother tug the collar of his armor again. The warden held his glass of water up in front of him, subtly blocking the further approach of people near me. The warden's eyes darted around the main courtyard and avoided contact with another of the nobles'._

_"So, tell us, killing the Archdemon," asked one noblewoman. She brushed aside her undone hair and flashed Aedan a smile. "that must be quite the mighty tale! I've heard the stories but I'd rather hear it straight from the horse's mouth- tell me, what was it like?" She reached over to brush Aedan's arm, but the warden swerved his body to the right._

_"Maybe another time," said Aedan, a wheeze in his breath. He downed the rest of his water, set his glass on a nearby servant's platter, and exited the main hall. Fergus saw his brother's exit from the corner of his eye. He followed his brother's back down the hallways until finally Aedan entered into a room._

_There in the living room, Aedan sat on the sofa staring at the fireplace, gripping one left with his fist and holding his shaking glass of water in the other. He muttered something beneath his breath over and over. Aedan jumped as Fergus entered the room. The water in his glass nearly spilled and a small crack appeared at the base of his glass as he gripped it tight. "Sorry, this place gets me jumpy. I'm not usually like this...they're just all so loud, and they keep bumping into me, and...fuck, it's this entire place." After he had set down his glass, Aedan rubbed his face with both hands. His breath seeped in through the cracks in his fingers. His shoulders and back hunched together. "Sorry. Figured it'd be different, considering the place isn't burnt ruins."_

_"Are you ever going to take that armor off?"_

_"No. Not here," muttered Aedan. "Never here." The bottle of whiskey drew his eyes. The chandelier light glinted off the crystal decanter and the still, golden-brown liquid. He gulped and shifted his body till he faced away from the alcohol. Fingers drummed the coach arm. He turned his gaze away towards the surroundings of the rooms: though it was the living room, nothing was the same as it had been. The room, once square, had a diagonal corner in it. The stone granite walls had been replaced with a lighter alternative. Where once the family portrait had hung, now only a bookcase remained. Aedan stared daggers into the mahogany bookcase._

_Fergus grimaced and sat down next to his brother. He gazed into the bottom of his scotch. He shifted the glass to and fro, the liquid sloshing within. "Sorry," he said._

_"For what?" asked Aedan._

_"I'm sorry that I made you come here. I kept asking you to come to the final lay of the stones over and over, I thought that…" Fergus lingered off and glanced at his brother again: where once there was a boy who ran through the hallways laughing, a young man who drunkenly partied, and a man who led an entire army to victory, instead Fergus only saw a quiet, withdrawn, weary soldier._

_Aedan scratched at one of his temples. He patted his brother once on the shoulder. "You didn't make me come here, Fergus. I came for the same reason you rebuilt the place. I hoped it'd be different this time around." Aedan glanced at the room around him, at the colors that mismatched with his memories. "Guess I was wrong."_

_Fergus rolled his tongue within his own mouth, struggling to find words to say. Aedan gazed into the fireplace and sipped on his water. Fergus finished his glass and refilled it and brought it up to eye level. His warped reflection stared back as golden-brown liquid swished about. ""It sunk in the first time for me the other day. I laid in my bed, in the rebuilt bedroom...and nothing. It was cold, quiet, and nobody else was there besides me." Fergus sipped on his scotch again. "Just cold and quiet. I never saw their bodies. I never saw them die. It never really...hit me. It was like I exited the room, and they departed on a long trip. Like at any moment they would return."_

_Aedan opened his mouth to say something but remained silent. He patted his brother on the back and let his arm linger across the man's shoulder._

_"Been awhile since it's been the two us of us," said the Teyrn._

_"I'd say I keep meaning to come by," replied Aedan, "but I'd be lying."_

_"I could come to Vigil's Keep, if you dislike this place. Things have just been so busy."_

_"Being a Teyrn is hard work. I understand."_

_"And being a Warden-Commander isn't?"_

_"Ever since the battle of Amaranthine it's been bureaucracy and governing the arling."_

_"Don't like it?"_

_"It's not terrible. I just never asked for the job. Some people explore their passions...I stumbled into a job I'm good at. You know what I mean: did you always dream of being a Teyrn, listening to your vassals squabble?"_

_"Of course not. You remember when I considered running off and becoming a painter?"_

_"You're terrible at drawing."_

_"I know. Father told me time after time."_

_"Maker, I even miss him yelling at us."_

_The brothers chuckled together, perhaps for the first time that night. The two brought their glasses to their mouths, Aedan his water and Fergus his scotch. They stared straight ahead into the fireplace._

_"You know," said Aedan, "Staring at the fire sort of reminds me of guard duty. I'd sit by the campfire, sometimes alone, sometimes with someone else. It was always nice."_

_Fergus smiled. "You always used to lay near the fireplace and laze about, just like Gregory."_

_"That was more like contentment. Guard duty was…" Aedan paused. His voice ached with a slight tremble. "-a rest."_

_"Tired, Aedan?"_

_"Yes, Fergus. It's been a long...long...do I say day? Or years?" Aedan rubbed at his face again and ruffled his own hair. "Yeah, I'm tired."_

_"Me too."_

_The fireplace crackled. Fergus finished off his scotch and picked up the decanter to pour himself another. His hand paused over the glass as he saw Aedan glance at the bottle. Aedan noticed the pause in Fergus's motion and gestured at the alcohol with a nod. "Don't mind me."_

_Fergus raised an eyebrow._

_"I'm serious. Go ahead," said Aedan._

_Fergus poured himself another glass and took a long sip. "You never told me why you stopped drinking."_

_"It's not a story that needs to be told," said Aedan, "nor one I want to tell."_

_"You describe many of your stories as such."_

_"Not sure if that's funny or depressing." Aedan finished off his water. "Probably both."_

_Fergus took another sip from his glass. By now he was several glasses of wine and scotch into his night. His head hazy, Fergus leaned back against the coach and basked in the cushions behind him and the fire in front of him. He scratched at his stubble and skin, hot from the fire and the booze. "Do you ever feel stuck, Aedan?" he mumbled._

_"In what way, Fergus?"_

_"Like everything since that day has been one dream, and you're still...just that man who wanted to be with his family? I know they're gone, but I feel like my life stopped that after I left here to Ostagar...and that it hasn't restarted yet."_

_Aedan glanced over at the bottle of scotch. "Geez, sometimes I think you're trying to get me to drink when you ask me big questions like that."_

_"Avoiding the question."_

_"I know." The warden drummed his fingers against his legs. His armor rustled as he leaned forward onto his elbows. "I don't feel stuck...but I haven't moved anywhere."_

_"Really? You're the Arl of Amaranthine now. The Warden-Commander. The Hero of Ferelden. When I picture the little brother I left behind that day, and the man I see before me now, you're almost unrecognizable." Fergus let the back of head bang against the wall. "I just thought...you'd know how to get unstuck."_

_"Sure, I've had to deal with more responsibilities...had to deal with more choices...but it's only shifting from one role to another. I'm still…"_

_"Uneased."_

_"Yes, uneased."_

_"Like a part of you is still back there. Back with them all." Fergus clasped both his hands around his mouth and breathed in. "Do you wonder if what we had here, in this place, in our home, was the best we would have?" Fergus's voice lowered and croaked. He set down his glass and covered both his eyes with his right hand. "Do you remember the happiest moment of your life? Will anything I have ever measure up to that? Back up to Oriana and my little Oren?"_

_"What units of measurement do you measure happiness in? How do you compare one moment against another, when they can vary so differently?" Aedan placed his hands behind his head and leaned against the sofa back. He stared up at the ceiling while scratching at his scalp. "Sorry, that's not really an answer."_

_Fergus watched Aedan close his eyes. The muscles on Aedan's neck untensed and his breathing slowed. A slight smile crept up from the corner of his mouth but it dissipated._

_"Sometimes I think," said Aedan, "it was the morning before I left Denerim to go to Redcliffe for the final campaign. Morrigan was in bed with me. I'm sleeping soundly...and I get woken up by her sneezing on my face. Of course, it means she was hovering over my face and watching me but she won't admit it. We bicker a little. She rolls over on her side, I spoon her from behind, but I try to get up to start the day...she drags me back down and says…" Aedan wrung his hands. His voice wavered. "Five more minutes." He scratched at his cheek and another smile flashed across his face. "But another thought crosses my mind...maybe it was that one dinner with our family, do you remember? We bickered over the chicken between the two of us. Mother and Father laughed as us when we accidentally launched it into the air by tugging too hard._

_"There's countless, literally countless, moments that occurred. The thing is...defining it as the happiest moment, the actual act of defining it, that's the problem- because you've put it on a pedestal now, as though it's some ideal to live up to, or something to try to grasp once again or to beat- but we can't, Fergus. A moment is just a measurement of time. Perhaps a second, a minute, or less- but it's time nonetheless and by nature it must pass. It was a moment and now it's a memory. You can chase it, but you'll never be able to catch it. You can run from it, but you'll never leave it behind._

_"I'll always miss our family. Every day during the Blight I would think about them and about how I'd be better off with them. I came so close to that edge, so close to to rejoining them, but they, the people we loved, are gone. As much I as I kept reliving those memories in my head, nothing would change that. The only thing I could change...was what I chose that day." Aedan rubbed at his left eye. For the first time Fergus noticed that it was a different shade of brown. "Whether to continue on with a life filled with moments or lay in my memories," mused Aedan._

_"That's this castle for me, Fergus: memories. I still remember all the good times we had here, but I also remember that godawful day I left and the day I came back to take care of their bodies. I can still smell those cinders, taste the blood in my mouth, see the sight of-" Aedan paused and put his clenched fist over his mouth. He took a few seconds to compose himself and breathed out through clenched teeth. "I will never be able to stay here, but as sad as that sounds, that's okay." The warden's voice trembled. "It's okay," he repeated to both Fergus and himself. " It's okay, because sometimes you have to leave and move on. It's fine to remember. It's fine to linger." Aedan eased himself off the couch and stood back up. "But when the chance comes whether to choose whether to live in moments or to lay in memories...I hope you make the choice you want."_

_A silence filled the room while Fergus mulled over Aedan's words. The teyrn leaned his forehead against his hand and hid his glassy eyes. Fergus wiped aside his eyes and stood up alongside his brother. "Thanks for coming." Fergus nodded and clasped his brother on the shoulder of his armor. "I assume you'll not stay for the rest of the party."_

_"No, I'll head out. I need to take care of some business anyways over in Soldier's Keep a little north of here.."_

_Aedan and Fergus traversed the hallways down to the stables. Aedan's horse whinnied at the sight of him and the warden strapped his reins and saddle onto the creature. He grappled onto the seat and gave Fergus a wave. "See you, brother."_

_"Next time, I'll come visit you," said Fergus. The teyrn shivered and tightened his coat around him._

_As his horse left the stables and trotted through the main gate, Aedan looked back once at Castle Cousland. His eyes strayed from the Cousland banners, barely illuminated by the watchtower's fire, to the still open gate, to the flickering shadows of the noble party in the courtyard. He waved at his brother one last time then turned away from Castle Cousland._

* * *

"That was a month ago. I still haven't taken his advice. I still just wake up, do the duties of a Teyrn, and go to bed. Each day is...going through the motions." Fergus sighed and rolled up the sleeves of his noble clothing. He took another sip of ale. A thought crossed his mind and he tilted his head to the side. "To be honest though, this search for Aedan is the most travelling I've done in awhile...the most fun I've had in awhile. Good ol Aedan. Even when he's not around, he's still keeping my life interesting." Fergus stood up and sighed. "But enough of that depressing talk. To Denerim tomorrow."

Leliana stretched out her arms, and despite the yawn that escaped her, she stated, "I think I'll stay up a little while longer with Oghren. You're welcome to join us."

"Yeah, come on. Can't end the evening on a heavy story like that! Let's get some of the good stuff in us!" Oghren reached into his sack and pulled out a bottle of rum, brandishing it at Leliana and Fergus.

The teyrn nervously laughed and held up both his hands. "I'm good. Should probably head to bed for the night." As Fergus paced back over to his bedroll, he paused in his path and looked back over at Leliana and Oghren, smiling and laughing. The cold air rushed against him and he shivered. He glanced over at his bedroll, secluded away in its tent.

Fergus sat back down next to the two and picked up an empty glass. "On second thought," he said, "perhaps a little longer."

Oghren grinned and poured the teyrn another.


	78. Friend

"Onto our next order of business, grain subsidies."

Subsidies- the magic word that signaled Alistair to commence daydreaming. Not that he had been involved in the subsidy process since Anora always worked that portion. He rested his chin on his hand and though he stared forward at whoever was speaking, his unfocused gaze was actually looking at the palace wall. Today's meeting was slated to take at least four hours. Alistair internally screamed.

Arl Wulff slammed the papers onto the table and glared at Queen Anora. "Your Majesty, you can't be serious. The south is still recovering. We can't afford a reduced subsidy this year. I wish on my pride that it weren't so, but that's the truth."

What a beard on that man- Arl Wulff stood taller than everyone present and even so the beard ended near his chest. Alistair pondered a beard upon his own face: thick, bushy, glorious. He could pull it off. He had seen the worst of beards, an alcohol-soaked and food-ridden fiery monster upon Oghren's face, so he'd could avoid those pitfalls.

Of course, that meant actually growing it out. In his youth Alistair had grown out his facial hair for several months and it sprouted in uneven patches once beyond the stubble state and would require much maintenance. Duncan kept a well-maintained clean beard despite his line of work. Alistair had asked him for advice on growing out his own, for it seemed like every Ferelden Grey Warden had one and forgoing one seemed rude. Aedan however failed to carry on that tradition. During the Blight, Aedan had shaved every few days. At the most he'd allow a thick stubble. Alistair suspected that Morrigan as the cause. The last time Alistair had visited Vigil's Keep, Aedan's stubble verged on a beard.

Then again, that meant forgoing the royal barber. Alistair chided himself- he promised he wouldn't get spoiled by the royal life but he might as well enjoy some of the perks. Nothing like a clean shave and a little spritz of aftershave upon his smooth face.

"You've enjoyed generous subsidies for the last two years. This is ten percent lower." The queen slid the papers back towards Arl Wulff and with an icy tone replied, "There is limited money in the budget because we've been funneling it towards agriculture and not commerce. We're hoping to import more food from our neighbors in the north to help strengthen our trade routes and replenish the royal coffers, which is where that part of the budget will go to."

Yes, he imagined Anora using the same icy tone when she would tell him that the scrappy beard did not befit a young king.

"King Alistair, please, show us some mercy," said Arl Wulff as he turned to Alistair. The king suppressed a frown. So if Anora wouldn't roll over, he would? He crooked his gaze at Arl Wulff. "I'm going with Anora on this one. Under-researched does not sound like her. If things in the south g-"

_Don't say go south, don't say go south, don't say go south._

"-get too dire we can always reevaluate the budget at the next Landsmeet."

"Onto the next order of business," said Arl Eamon, who sorted through the stack of papers in front of him and slid out the next file.

Onto the next order of business and onto the next order of business and onto the next order of business. Alistair pictured stuffing the stack of papers into Eamon's mouth and smacking him over and over. As Alistair sunk into that delusion, the doors to the Landsmeet chamber burst open. Aedan Cousland strode in clad in full armor. The guards scurried behind him. "You can't just barge in!" said one guard. He slung his hand onto Aedan's shoulder and pulled him backwards.

"Watch me," said Aedan as he brushed off the guards hand. He faced Alistair and grimaced. "Alistair, you need to come immediately." He turned to the queen and bowed before her. "Queen Anora, I apologize, but this is Warden business. I'm sorry, I can't say more."

"This cannot wait until the meeting is over?" said Anora.

Aedan's brow furrowed. "I wouldn't storm in here in full armor and demand the king's attention for anything but the very fate of Ferelden." Both Alistair and Anora glanced at Aedan. Splotches of dirt and blood stained his armor and greaves. How long had he been travelling and what sort of message was he bringing? The king and queen nodded at one another. Alistair sat up and pushed in his chair.

"Aedan, what's happening?" asked Alistair as he strode besides Aedan at a brisk rate.

"I'll explain outside. It's Grey Warden business."

Alistair gulped as he watched Aedan's grim frown. Aedan rarely looked this serious, even when he discussed troops. Once the two of them exited the palace, Aedan threw Alistair a cloak and beckoned him into the alleyways. After several minutes of ducking through alleyways and streets, Alistair halted in his path. "What's happening, Aedan? What's going on? Is it the darkspawn?"

"What?" He made a slight grin. "Nothing. Betted you might want to get out of that boring meeting and grab some food."

Alistair paused, glanced in the palace's direction, and grinned back at Aedan. "Thank the Maker, I was going to die in there," he said, pulling the hood of the cloak over himself.

The two knew not to stop and chat before they reached Aedan's destination. Thanks to the Blight, everyone knew Aedan and Alistair's faces and voices. During the Blight the authorities had plastered their likeness on every wanted poster and after it instead the artists had painted and carved them. As they passed by Fort Drakon, both Aedan and Alistair paused outside the entrance. In the middle of the courtyard stood a gilded statue of Aedan and Alistair in full armor. The back of statue Aedan's tabard was cast flowing in the wind as he struck down a fearsome darkspawn. He and Alistair, clad in his king's armor, stood back to back.

"They finished it, huh?" Aedan rubbed his chin and examined his visage. "A little gaudy, what with the gilding." The sun glinted off the statue right into Aedan's eyes. The man cringed and shifted his gaze.

"Looks rather heroic," said Alistair. He posed with his back against Aedan's and emulated the statue's pose. His stomach grumbled loud enough that even Aedan could hear it. Alistair gave a nervous high-pitched laugh. "Sorry...had to skip breakfast to make it to the meeting today."

"I missed you, buddy," chuckled Aedan as he shook his head.

* * *

"This is the best fish sandwich I've ever had." Alistair scraped the tartar sauce off his fingers with his teeth and took another bit from his fried fish sandwich.

"Seymour over here catches them fresh every day and fries them up nice and good." Aedan sat with one foot on the dock, his arms leaning on his knee, while the other leg hung off the side and splashed at the water. He waved over at the chef standing by his food stand.

Seymour gave Aedan a nod and thumbs up. "The trick is copious amounts of oil with the fish, butter on the sandwich, and plenty of mayo in the tartar sauce."

"It always is, Seymour," said Aedan as he raised his sandwich to the chef. He turned to Alistair and whispered, "It's really just a grease delivery system."

"No complaints over here," mumbled Alistair through bites of his sandwich. "Sure he won't blab we're here?"

"Nah, I've known Seymour since I was a kid. He's good people." Aedan blew on his sandwich, still glistening from being fried. "So how's ruling been?"

Alistair heard an audible crunch as Aedan took his first bite out of the sandwich. "Same as usual," said the king, "Anora does most of the work, I wave and look pretty. Not as bad as I thought it would be...but still boring. You would have made a great king, you know that. You'd have actually done things."

"Why not try doing some of those things?"

"What, like economic policies and diplomatic agreements?"

"Why not? Maybe you'll hate it, but you'll know for sure you hated it. Who knows, maybe you'll actually like ruling. Try something new; you'll never know if you're good at it until you try it."

"Yeah, I doubt that," scoffed Alistair. "Anyways, what brings you into Denerim? Haven't heard of any darkspawn about. Ever since that incident in Amaranthine, they've been very quiet."

"Yeah, they don't talk anymore. Thank the Maker for that." Aedan pointed at the ship moored right by them. "This ship's here to take me to the Dragonbone Wastes. Fastest way to get there. Leaving in-" Aedan cocked his head over to the side and whistled to the captain. An old sailor with an eyepatch stepped above deck with a bundle of ropes in hand. "How long till we leave captain?" shouted Aedan.

"Just a couple more minutes till we get all the rigging done!" replied the sailor.

"Oh." Aedan paused and grimaced. He glanced at Alistair and for a moment lost his words. "Overestimated how much time we'd have for lunch. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Even a little time outside is nice," said Alistair. "So why the Dragonbone Wastes? If it's not darkspawn, then-" Alistair paused before he finished his sentence. He peered at Aedan's stubble-less face. "You shaved." Alistair bumped his shoulder up against Aedan and jostled his fellow warden in the side. "Morrigan's there, isn't she?"

"There's something she's looking for and it's there. She might not be, but knowing her..." Aedan's voice trailed off and he sighed.

"Maker, I even miss her berating us. Do you remember that first time I refused to eat her stew? She had such a glare that day. For weeks after that I feared she put some sort of poison in my portions."

"Yeah, and you had me taste test your meals beforehand to make sure she didn't."

"Oh come on, even you hesitated to taste test my dishes."

"...I don't remember that."

The two men finished the last of their fish sandwiches in silence. Alistair glanced over at Aedan's ungloved hand. "Not wearing her ring?" he observed.

Aedan pulled out a silver chain from beneath his armor. Morrigan's ring dangled from it. "When you hunt, you conceal your position from the animal until the very end. I'd think the same wisdom applies for this particular witch hunt." Aedan eased chain and ring back underneath his armor, touching the ring against his shirt first then letting both slide down. "Can't let it touch my skin," he noted.

"So, what are you going to do if you find her?"

"Big if there."

"Come on, it's you, you'll find her and knowing you, you've mapped out all the possible responses you can give her."

"I've thought about it. What if she doesn't feel the same way after two years or what if she hasn't changed her mind? Stupid questions like that. But I think...I'm going to do what I've always done with her. Do what comes natural: say what I want to say, do what I want to do. If I think too hard, I'll screw it all up."

"But you look nervous...you're never nervous with her. Come on, man, get it together."

"Well, it's...ah…" Aedan rolled his tongue inside his mouth and groaned and rubbed at the back of his neck. "It's not just her."

Alistair's head whipped at Aedan. His eyes shot open. A smile crept up from cheek to cheek.

"No way," he whispered, a tremble of restrained excitement escaping his lips. Alistair gestured his hands right before Aedan's eyes. The warden-commander's eyes spun about as he watched the confusing animated show that Alistair's hands concocted. At one point his fingers twisted and kneaded with each other and Aedan frowned and shivered. "I hope you're not trying to emulate what I think you are," said Aedan. "Although out of everyone, you walked in on Morrigan and I the most, so if anyone knows what we we looked like during, I guess it'd be-"

Alistair punched his friend in the side where the Archdemon had once bit him. Aedan winced and dropped his sandwich. He flailed for it before it hit the ground, and managed to smack his food back into his lap. Alistair shook Aedan by the shoulders while he held tight to his sandwich, flinging Aedan's head to and fro.

"You have a kid! She had a kid!" Alistair's joyous giggling erupted forth. "You two have a kid!"

"Yes, there's a kid involved. Please stop shaking me."

Alistair withdrew his hands but bobbed in place and the wooden deck below them creaked. "How far in was she when she left? I didn't notice any sort of bump last time I saw her and her outfit doesn't exactly hide the stomach."

"Conceived the night before we left Redcliffe. Given a standard pregnancy, I guess he's a about one and a half years old now." Aedan looked out at the sea. "Wonder how big he is now."

Alistair rubbed at his forehead and exhaled. "I'm not sure how I feel about this. On the one hand, any kid of yours is a great addition to the world. On the other hand-" A chill ran down the king's spine and he shivered. "-my least favorite person in Thedas has spawned a child. Maker help us all."

"Spawned is an interesting choice of words."

"So...nervous, I'm guessing."

"A little. I mean...it's easy telling troops what to do. Run drills. Do patrols. Perform maintenance. I'm good at that. I'm good at killing big monstrous things. I don't know if I'll be good at being a father."

"You literally just told me a minute ago, 'You'll never know if you're good at it unless you try it.'"

"Yeah, guess I've got to follow my own damn advice for once," said Aedan, "Easy to say things rather than do them."

"Do what your parents did. You turned out fine. You'll make a great father."

"I hope so."

"I know so. Come on, this is you we're talking about. We didn't follow back during the Blight because of how you fought. We kept following you because you believed in us. You supported us. Do the same for your kid."

The captain whistled over at Aedan as he drew up the final sails onto the mast. "Warden! Ships ready to go when you are!"

Aedan stood up and so did Alistair. The two approached the walkway onto the ship. "Well, guess this is it," said Alistair.

"We'll see each other again soon," said Aedan, "I'm not going years without seeing my best friend."

"Yes, well, this time-" laughed Alistair but his laugh faded but his smile remained. His voice quieted. "-this time I get the feeling I won't see you for awhile."

Aedan smiled back, his eyes a little glassy. Aedan and Alistair hugged one last time. "You have to promise me one thing though," said Alistair as broke from the hug and placed his hands on his friend's shoulders. "You have to promise me…that you'll tell as many dad jokes as you can to that kid to piss Morrigan off."

Aedan stifled a chortle. "Oh man, you read my mind. I'm serious. I even wrote some of them down." He unfurled a small scroll from his back pocket and showed it to Alistair.

The king snorted as he scanned the list. "Maker, these are terrible. Are you telling me we've talking about stupid shit like kingdoms and fatherhood when we could have been working together on bad jokes? Priorities, come on."

"I know, right?" laughed Aedan. He gave Alistair one last wave and a smile before heading down into the ship's decks.

* * *

After arriving back into the castle, Alistair snuck back to the royal study. There, Anora sat hunched over a pile of paperwork. Now that all the nobles had departed for the day, instead of a fine silk dress Anora donned a set of bland wool pants and a loose shirt. Alistair knocked on the side of the wall and Anora peeked up. "Was it something urgent?" she asked.

"I..." Alistair wrung his hands. "No."

"No?" Anora turned her body to face Alistair and set aside her papers.

Alistair gulped and his hands went clammy. He tried to read her blank expression, but the damn woman controlled herself too well. He relented and said, "Aedan just wanted to grab a bite and say goodbye before he left on a...long...trip."

"Ah." Anora smiled and rolled her eyes. "I figured as much. Thank you for being honest."

Alistair raised his eyebrows. The sweat in his palms faded."You're not mad?"

"Well, I had to consider my options. I either refuse the Hero of Ferelden and the king in a situation where the entire country was at peril, or I say yes. Besides, you've had to do a lot of work the past few days, what with the new zoning ordinances in the city and all."

"I didn't do much- I just took the relevant nobles and construction workers and socialized with them over drinks. Besides, you did most of the budget work."

"Yes, but I only had the time to do that because I didn't have to deal with aforementioned ordinances."

The praise left Alistair stuttering. "Umm...ah...thanks." He stood near the desk and measured the stack of papers up against his chest and cringed. "Do you need any help with any of this?"

"It's fine," said Anora.

Alistair measured his hand at the height of Anora's head then raised it all the way to the top of the stack. "The paper is literally piled higher than your head."

"Fair point," Anora chuckled. She set down her pen and rubbed at her aching fingers. "What brought this on?'

"I always end up piling extra work for you. Thought it might be nice to do something, well, nice." Alistair shrugged. "We are married after all."

Anora paused, looking down at her current work then up at Alistair. A rare smile crossed Anora's face. "Sure. Can't hurt to try something new." Anora took a thin stack of papers off the top of the pile and handed them to Alistair.

Alistair cracked his knuckles, pulled up a seat next to Anora, and peered at the first word on the page. "Subsidies?" he read.

A groan echoed through the palace.


	79. Fools

Morrigan couldn't sleep.

In the Wilds, at least Flemeth had been quiet. On the rare occasion Flemeth lured a lover, Morrigan gritted her teeth through the moans and rumblings of the walls and remembered that tomorrow swamp fish would feast on his corpse. During the Blight, her companions congregated about the campfire, chatting and cackling. As a result, she distanced her tent away from them.

But noooo, that man, that insufferable man, somehow convinced her to share their bedroll. During the worst of his nightmares, Aedan would toss and turn and jump out of bed. Even when he slept without a fuss, she lay awake expecting his movements. Twas only after the Landsmeet he slept consistently, but only a few short weeks before their parting.

Another disharmonious wail echoed through the night like a drunkard flailing at all the wrong notes on a lute. Morrigan banged her head against the pillow. Aedan slept far across Ferelden, but a little part of him still disturbed her slumber. She glanced at said little part. The one month old Kieran flailed about on his bedding of blankets, tears dripping down his face. The witch rolled her back towards Kieran. "Go back to sleep," she mumbled, scrunching her blankets around her ears, but Kieran continued to wail.

Her blanket fell to the ground as the groaning Morrigan lifted herself out of her bedroll. She hoisted Kieran up and cradled and rocked the child back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He reached up towards her breast. His mouth open and shut. "Very well," muttered Morrigan. She removed the fabric covering her breast and brought the child's mouth towards her nipple. Kieran's mouth latched on. Little hands grasped at her breast whilst Kieran suckled.

Morrigan patted down her messy hair, little strands still sticking up. A heavy yawn escaped her. While she tapped her finger against her arm, she glanced occasionally at the feeding baby. After several minutes, Morrigan scowled at the still-feeding child. "You'll get fat if you drink that much."

Kieran's eye glanced up for a second but he ignored his mother's comments and continued to suckle on her right breast. Morrigan narrowed her eyes. "It seems you inherited his appetite...or at least his spite."

Soon after, the baby released from her breast. The satisfied Kieran lay still, but the calm was temporary. Soon he gurgled and pawed at Morrigan's undone hair and it tangled in his tiny soft fingers.

Since the later stages of her pregnancy and the first month of Kieran's existence, Morrigan had not needed to tie up her hair. Before she kept it at shoulder length and tied it up to avoid getting it in the way while casting magic, but she fought little in the ensuing months since the Blight. Back then she'd hold up the mirror and use magic to slice off some of the length, but now the hair grew far below her shoulders. For now though she tied a simple ponytail starting from the back of her neck.

Kieran batted at her ponytail over and over, his eyes following the swaying movement. Her own eyes heavy, Morrigan drifted off into the half-slumber. Her head bobbed down. Kieran tugged at her ponytail, pulling Morrigan back into reality where she saw the baby chewing on the ponytail. Saliva dribbled all over the hair. "No," said Morrigan. She yanked her hair from the child's mouth. Kieran's eyes welled up. Morrigan tried to groan but all she mustered was a tired breath. "Not this again," she whispered half-asleep. The child threw his head back and wailed and his little limbs shook. Morrigan rocked the child back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

"Hush child," said Morrigan, unable to hear her own voice over his wails, "Cease crying. Hush, Kieran."

The baby's eyes wandered up to her mouth, though he did not cease crying.

"Kieran," she said again. No doubt the child didn't know she was addressing him by name, but the mere sound of her voice drew his attention. Still, the ingraining the name necessitated repetition. She heard Aedan's voice from months ago in her head, saying that name.  _Kieran._  He would never know the child, but Morrigan prefered no particular name. It was not something that ever crossed her mind, so she went with the one name they both enjoyed. Morrigan narrowed her eyes at the sleeping child. Though one might say she owed Aedan that much, what he had given her was a small bundle of noise and annoyance. One month of crying every night. One month of breastfeeding. One month of Kieran demanding constant attention.

What if Aedan continued travelling with her after the Blight? Perhaps they could have done shifts. Granted, she'd have to breastfeed the child, so she'd still have to wake up. While Morrigan pondered, she played with the ring around her finger. Without thinking she pinged his ring but no response came back. Morrigan bit her lip. She should have known better by now.

Knowing him, he took it off to prevent her from tracking him. Or, thought Morrigan, her fingers fidgeting, he found someone else. A nice, quiet girl who wouldn't run off into danger or have templars or a literal abomination of a mother hunting her. He'd live a easier life that way. A happier life.

Whilst rocking Kieran again, Morrigan shook the thought out of her head. Aedan was not here. He should not be here. She departed so that no one else would be here. For destiny planned great things for the child...ones that no one else could dictate.

Perhaps that explained why she got along with him more so than the others. The two of them always prioritized duty over themselves. Their duties coincided for a time, but now they brought them apart. To force them together would defeat the purpose. Duty was not something you shared to make others feel better. Duty was something you did because you were supposed to do it.

She'd been a fool, to think that she could be with him. For one, he was a Grey Warden: death was inevitable. The Archdemon almost killing Aedan proved what a dangerous lifestyle he led. Even then, the Calling would one day consume him. And could she even trust him to stay alive? For months Aedan anticipated his death. He knew. He knew all along what would happen when he plunged his sword into the Archdemon, yet he said not a single word.

Was she any different? She knew all along what her and Flemeth's plans were, yet she said not a thing. But no, there was a difference. Aedan welcomed his end. In Redcliffe, he didn't outright state it, but Morrigan knew his death was more than just a necessity to him, but a final reprieve from his prolonged existence since that day in Highever. His final words to her? 'I'm just going home.' In his heart, he still believed he belonged with the dead.

Morrigan's heart twinged.  _Not with her._

The image of Aedan lying in her lap flashed through her mind. Blood streamed from his gouged out eye. His side, ripped asunder, spilling out his guts. He lay cold and dead and lifeless upon her.

Her fists tightened. The woman cast her gaze to the ground. This was not a theoretical or a fear. This happened and would reoccur because one day he would leave again, by choice or circumstance. She had her time with him during the Blight. That was enough. Anything more distracted her from fulfilling the child's destiny. It was temporary, fleeting, a blip in her own history and her own history a blip in the world.

_But he chose you that night._

Morrigan still remembered him spooning her from behind after their last night, their hands clasped together over her womb. Why did she linger on him, a year later since their last meeting atop the Denerim tower. Why did he plague her mind? She had not seen his face, heard his voice-

Morrigan now shook her physical head, rattling her thoughts up to clear her mind. It was better this way. She needed to concentrate on the present, however much it annoyed and assaulted her ears. Morrigan continued to rock the child. As his tears faded, Kieran coughed once. Morrigan's breath halted. Her grip clenched around the baby.

It was nothing. Just a cough. Living things coughed every once in awhile. Small bits of saliva accumulated in their mouths. Sometimes they cleared them. Perhaps a stray piece of dust wandered into his airways. It was nothing. Just one cough.

Kieran coughed again.

* * *

Morrigan clutched at Kieran and held him tight. The child's forehead sweltered. Morrigan dabbed it with a compress. If in peaceful times Kieran already tormented her, then in worse times she could only liken Kieran's cries to garroted knives digging into her eardrums. Between his cries, Kieran coughed again, spraying phlegm over Morrigan's face. The witch wiped herself and Kieran off with her spare towel.

A wolf howled in the distance. A pack of wolf footsteps approached. Lightning crackled and thundered in the distance. The smell of burnt flesh filled her nose. She paced over to the source of the smoke. A few feet away, five smoking wolves that tripped on her wards, lightning singes covering their blackened fur. Morrigan muttered a spell and pointed a finger at each fading ward. They alit and spun up once again. Kieran coughed again at the lingering smoke. Morrigan thrust her hand to the side. Wind rushed in that direction and carried the smoke away. The witch glared in all directions before setting down an extra layer of wards. The color of her skin paled as the magic drained from her into the glowing traps. Kieran wailed again when Morrigan pressed her now freezing fingers against his skin. Morrigan wrapped him in a blanket and kept that layer between her and him.

Morrigan settled down back in their tent, her legs crossed. Kieran still assailed her aching eardrums with his incessant weeping. Her palm pressed against Kieran's forehead. Still burning. Morrigan grimaced: she could not use magic, not without knowing what the sickness was, and not on someone so young. She'd need to stick to traditional medicine, but administering it to a child was difficult enough as is, and they knew how to drink from cups and spoons. Kieran was but a month old. She uncorked a sickly green mixture from a vial that smelled of rotted fruit. Kieran gagged at the stench and flailed his arms. "Hush, it's not for you," groaned Morrigan as she endured Kieran's flailing.

The witch brought the vial to her lips. Her own digestive system would metabolize the medicine into something more palatable for Kieran through her breast milk. She just needed to make sure that liquid stayed in her digestive system. Morrigan downed the sour chalky substance. She gagged and her head spun but she covered her mouth to keep it down. Her stomach churned and daggers of pain stabbed her insides. All the while Kieran continued sobbing. At one point the young child vomited on her, but Morrigan was queasy enough from the mixture that a little vomit on her outfit didn't matter.

Once an hour passed, enough for the mixture to take effect in her, Morrigan unfurled her breast and beckoned Kieran to it. Kieran coughed again and the sound made Morrigan's heart drop into a dark abyss. "Please eat," she said, her words aching. For once the child did what she wanted and latched on. Unlike his usual feeding, Kieran suckled at a slow, tired rate. Morrigan cradled the back of his head to aid him.

After Kieran detached from her, he continued to cough though at a less frequent rate. Flemeth's medicine ought to have eased the pain in his throat, if he had any. Morrigan drifted off into half-sleep with Kieran beside her. She'd fed the child and soon he would be free of sickness. No doubt he'd allow her to slumber for at least an hour. Her forehead sunk into her pillow and Morrigan made a muffled groan though the scratchy fabric.

Not more than five minutes later, Kieran wailed again. Morrigan's sleep-deprived, bloodshot eyes creaked open. "Are you kidding me?" she croaked as her gaze creaked at Kieran.

As far back as she could remember, she heard the words from her mother: 'Stop crying. Tears are for the weak.'

 _So let them out.._ _you should only hold onto things that_ _make you stronger_

She spoke those words to Aedan at his family's funeral pyre- but that had been different: Aedan's tears were quiet and calculated, a moment of weakness during an arduous time. This child was just a bundle of weakness. Kieran wept for and at everything. Did he need food? Tears. Did he poop? Tears. Was everything in his life provided for? Tears.

How much more? How much more did this child, this wretched thing, this abomination, want? Words and curses accumulated in her lungs, her lips restraining the upcoming eruption. Her nostrils flared as her head whipped at the child. Before she said a word, Kieran saw her face and paused. The tears at the edges of his eyes trembled and his face twisted as wailing escalated to howling.

Morrigan's hand patted down her tight, scowling face. Her expression softened and Morrigan dragged herself out of bed. She leaned on her elbows over him, her bangs hiding her face. "Sorry," she muttered to the child. Morrigan clutched the crying Kieran in her arms. Her hand pressed against his forehead. Though not as much as before, his forehead still burnt. This was within...standard deviation for the allocated treatment time. Still Morrigan pressed her hand against Kieran's forehead, waiting for the temperature to fall. Morrigan rocked the child back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

Had Flemeth done this for her? Holding Morrigan in her arms and rocking her as a child? She couldn't imagine her mother doing such a thing. Flemeth raised each child for the sole purpose of becoming her next vessel. Did they need to be anything but powerful? Her mother empowered her and gifted her arcane knowledge beyond the minds of any other mage...yet somehow, even after raising countless children, Flemeth neglected to give Morrigan a single word of advice on how to raise a child, merely medicines and magic. How the child felt was inconsequential as long as he grew up healthy and strong. How did Flemeth tolerate this, daughter after daughter? Perhaps that was why she had been so cold to Morrigan: after hundreds of years of raising children, Flemeth ran out of love to give. Was it there to begin with?

The sight of the crying Kieran tempted her into sneering, but she restrained her lips. This is what she was- her mother. Creating a child for a purpose. Raising a child for purpose. Kieran had simply been a necessity, not a choice. If her mother told her to put the soul into an urn, she would have done so. Even with Flemeth out of her life, her mother's tendrils of influence infected her every step: her magic was Flemeth's, her attitude was Flemeth's, even her own child came about of Flemeth's machinations.

That was the difference between her and Aedan. He, raised by a loving family, and her, raised by Flemeth. She could never be like him, be with him.

Morrigan dabbed at Kieran's forehead with a compress again. She worked her way down his body with the cloth. This sickness would pass. She knew it would pass. Her mother's medicine had never failed. Yet Kieran kept crying and her chest tightened. Her mother would remain silent. There was no point to saying anything else. The baby would be fine.

Do not reassure him, came her mother's harsh voice in her mind, Kieran needed to endure this to be strong.

Kieran howled again. His forehead still burned. Morrigan's heart clenched and she hugged Kieran closer. She rocked the crying babe in her arms again. "Please just be okay." She cradled his head up to her cheek and she pressed herself against him. "Just be okay," she whispered. "Cry all you want, just be okay."

What would Aedan say to Kieran at this moment? Morrigan rubbed at her eyes tearing up as she thought of Aedan. He was always so good with people. At times like this, he'd say something stupid, infinitely stupid, or to irritate her, or to make her smile- but he didn't even need to say anything. If she could just see his smile. She pictured in her mind, him grinning from cheek to cheek, and at the thought of that Morrigan too smiled.

Kieran gazed at his mother. His tears faded and his howling ebbed away. His hands reached up as he giggled and grinned despite his sickened state. Morrigan's arms tensed up. Every muscle froze at the sight of the smiling babe. Her tense face distorted her smile. Kieran's eyes welled up again. Morrigan forced another smile. Whatever tears Kieran had dissipated. He resumed giggling and waving his arms at his mother.

"That's it?" Morrigan teared up. She bit her lip through her smile to hold back her tears, lest the baby cry again. "That's all you wanted?" She hugged the baby close to her. Kieran clamored up at her face. His little fingers patted at her lips, eyes, and hair. She rocked Kieran in her arms. Her smile warmed and softened. Kieran gurgled and faded off to slumber.

Such a simple thing. Such a stupid, simple thing. Morrigan stroked Kieran's head as she lay him down in his bed. She hesitated over his sleeping face but relented and kissed his forehead.

"Fool," she murmured.

* * *

The time had come for Morrigan to leave Ferelden, at least for now.

Morrigan snapped her fingers as she ascended the stairway. The torches spread throughout the cave alit. At the top of the stairway, an ornate elven mirror made of silver and steel awaited: the eluvian. Morrigan's hands hovered in front of it. She whispered to the mirror, and its surface alit. Years of research finally led here. A safe refuge where even Flemeth could not find her. Everything she needed resided across the eluvian. She had prepared rations for several months by now. Dried fruit, meat, and bread. Her final destination flowed with water and bustled with livestock. Various seeds with which to grow crops were pocketed neatly away in paper envelopes.

The mirror's light sputtered. Morrigan cursed beneath her breath and applied another rune. The light steadied and intensified. With each further usage, the eluvian broke down more and more. Once she was inside its confines, she could find another doorway out, but this eluvian had only one last usage left, even after all her work.

She patted down her bag. Did she pack the toy? Her hand grasped a small stuffed bird that resembled a pigeon. As of late, whenever Morrigan presented Kieran with one, the baby beamed and laughed for hours on end while he tousled with the stuffed bird. For the life of her, Morrigan couldn't understand the fascination. She at one point transformed into a raven with lustrous feathers and perched next to the child. Kieran had disregarded her, choosing to play with his stuffed toys instead. Morrigan scowled. Despite Kieran's questionable choices, the toys afforded Morrigan a rare luxury: quiet. For that, one last trip into town for extra supplies was worth it.

Kieran already slumbered on the other side. A healthy feeding and some rocking in her arms always knocked him right out. She did not want him in this godforsaken cave any longer than necessary, lest he catch a cold.

The Dragonbone Wastes attracted all sorts of undesirables. Morrigan had found the corpses of some strange Blight worm creatures here. The dragon cultists marched about the region, venerating this graveyard for fallen dragons. The worst of it was the varterral, always screeching and spewing its spit while rampaging across the wastes. It had not come until Morrigan had activated the eluvian for the first time. No doubt the creature gravitated to one of the last remaining vestiges of Elven magic in Thedas. It had been both a boon and an annoyance. It kept out any intruders and travellers, but Morrigan had to cast a spell to elude it's gaze. Anyone else would not be so lucky without the knowledge of the ancient elves.

While she adjusted some of the runes on the eluvian with her magic, the varterral screamed in the distance. The witch looked back towards towards the noise and scowled. Was it those blasted dragon cultists again? The beast already feasted upon so many of them as of late. It shrieked again, this time with a shrill, agonized cry. Morrigan narrowed her eyes. Could it be Flemeth? No, her mother would simply cast the same spell Morrigan did to get past.

As the creature continued shrieking, Aedan's face flitted in her mind. The witch chided herself. Why would it be him? Others could defeat the beast with enough manpower. For him to arrive just as she was about to leave defied probability.

Then her head and chest tingled with magic. A feeling she had not experienced in two years washed over her. It hit her like a warm sun ray after a cold night, like a sip of cool water in the sweltering deserts. Her fingers trembled as she brought them to her lips.

_He kept the ring._

Her eyes welled up. Of course he would do this...put the ring on just as he was approaching, just like he had done back at the tower in Denerim.

The eluvian glowed, prepared for one last journey. Aedan would never find her after this. Morrigan clutched at her chest, Aedan's ring still upon her finger. A dying shriek echoed then faded, followed by a slam of a massive body onto the ground. The cave shook. Bits of rubble rained down. Morrigan's hand paused over the mirror and she bit her lip. She had to leave now. There was no other-

_He kept the ring._

-choice.

Her feet went numb and her mouth dry. Footsteps echoed louder and louder throughout the cave. "You know, last time I was here, a giant talking broodmother ruled the place with these weird worm darkspawn," came Aedan's voice.

"Okay, now I know you're bullshitting me," replied someone else.

The footsteps stopped. "Look, it's her," gasped a woman's voice. Ariane. She had been part of the Dalish whose book Morrigan had...borrowed.

Morrigan's hand still hovered in front of the eluvian, trembling. The portal's light faded as the spell wore off, and the eluvian's surface once again became a mirror. Reflected in its surface was Morrigan's glassy eyes and the small figure of Aedan in the distance. He stood at the bottom of the staircase, staring up back at her. She clenched her eyes shut. Her hand lingered over chest and her racing heart thumped up against it.

Gregory bounded up the staircase, yelping at her. Morrigan turned to her side to greet the hairy mutt, still avoiding Aedan's gaze. Gregory ran circles around her ankles, barking incessantly. She knelt down and offered out her hand and the mabari jumped at it. His sloppy tongue licked at her palm. Morrigan chuckled as the mabari rolled over onto his back and exposed his belly. Her hand rubbed against his soft fur. She took a deep breath in, her eyes still on the stone platform beneath her. She shooed the dog back down the staircase. Gregory whined but Morrigan shot him a cold glare. The dog relented and shuffled back down the steps.

Morrigan stood back up. She brushed aside raven locks from her vision. Her gaze met Aedan's after two years.

"Well, well, well," said Morrigan, "What have we here?"


	80. Ghosts

_The fire flickered before Aedan. He fumbled for a stick to stoke the flames, but when he looked down only an infinite darkness lay beneath him. Where the hell was he? Last thing he remembered was...Morrigan's face. She was kneeling over him, ordering him to live. There had been a strand of hair caught in her mouth._ _Laying_ _there, he had noticed, but neglected to highlight that as to not ruin the moment._

 _That's right, he had been dying. Why was he dying? Something cold trickled down Aedan's face from his left eye. Was he crying? He had just_ _been killed_ _, that was at least_ _slightly_ _sad. Aedan brushed his left eye only to tug it's hanging guts. Aedan cringed and scooped the guts back into the socket. Nope, not crying, just bleeding. That's right, some darkspawn had gouged out his eye with a pike. What an ass._

 _Something else had happened. Aedan snapped his fingers, trying to remember why he was dying. An eye was nothing- Adair lived with one gouged out. Aedan patted down his body for more wounds. When his hands met his left side, somehow it_ _was charred_ _and wet and bleeding and acidic all at the same time. Aedan glanced down at the blood and stomach acid dripping out of his side. He gagged. Gross. Aedan rubbed the back of his pants and frowned. The most embarrassing part would be the post-mortem-_

_Shit, thought Aedan, let's not think about that._

_Aedan refocused on the dilemma at hand: where the hell was he? His hands patted down the ground, though it was pitch-black, something lumpy and wet_ _resided_ _below. Aedan gripped one lump. His hand grasped an arm and three grasped back. Their dirt-stained, rancid fingers with putrid green fingernails dug into his skin. Aedan yanked his hand out and skittered backwards._

" _Sorry, we'd render enough light to show the ground, but not enough in us for that," chuckled a familiar voice. Where had Aedan heard_ _that_ _voice before? It wasn't his father, or Fergus, or anyone else he recognized- but he'd heard it before._

 _A man sat down across the fire from Aedan. The flames blazed high enough that Aedan_ _could_ _only_ _see_ _a shadowy figure behind it with no distinguishing features. Aedan pointed at the flames. His finger strayed too close, but the fire didn't burn him. Aedan wiggled his finger within the flames. "What about the fire?"_

" _Without it, there'd be a whole lot of awkward fumbling in the darkness. Sort of like your first date with that Arl's daughter."_

 _Letting_ _his head fall backwards, Aedan stared up, sideways, and all about. Only darkness. He poked at the corpses beneath him and they wriggled. "So I'm dying, I guess." Aedan rubbed his dessicated eye. As he pressed his finger again into the mutilated flesh, blood dripped down his face. He rubbed it between his fingers and stared at his skin. A deep scarlet, revealed by the flickering orange flames, stained his finger._

" _Yes," said the man across from him._

" _It doesn't hurt as much as I'd thought," said Aedan. He flexed his bloodied fingers and the usual aches from prolonged gripping of his weapons no longer bothered him. He pressed his hand against his face. Cold. Aedan shivered._

" _We_ _could_ _process all the pain," said the other man,"but that'd take resources we don't have. You'd also be screaming so much we wouldn't be able to talk." The man across from Aedan pointed his finger at Aedan's side. Aedan poked at his side and cringed. A shiver of pain shot through his torso._

 _The fire died down, revealing the other man's face. Aedan's eyes widened._ _Staring_ _back at Aedan was himself, but not as he was. A scarless right arm waved back. A younger Aedan brushed off his noble clothing, the same outfit Aedan wore that night at Highever, and slicked back his well-groomed hair and flashed a toothy grin. Aedan shifted forward in his seat and squinted with his remaining eye at the scarless younger him._

" _Maker, I look young. Eamon wasn't kidding when he said it looked like I aged five years," said Aedan._

" _You mean better- without all the nasty scars," replied the younger him._

" _...Are you calling me ugly?" said Aedan._

" _I'm not calling you beautiful," said the younger him._

_Aedan glared across the fire. "...So what do I call you? Me?"_

" _The confusion will escalate, so to simplify things you can call me... Pup."_

" _Escalate?"_

_Pup nodded at an approaching figure. A man clanged down in the dragonbone armor that Wade had forged. He pulled off his gryphon-winged helm to reveal a clean-shaven, but scarred face that matched Aedan's, without the sweat and blood. Two eyes stared back. Pup slapped his hand over his neighbor's shoulder. "Umm...trying to conjure a good name for this guy." Pup stroked his chin and muttered. He snapped his fingers. "Leliana had the right idea. Call him the Hero of Ferelden."_

_Aedan threw his head back and groaned. "I swear, if Leliana spreads that name, I'll-"_

" _You'll do nothing, because you'll be dead," replied the Hero of Ferelden. His voice, strong and solemn, took Aedan aback. Did Aedan_ _really_ _sound like that? He_ _could_ _have mistook it for his father's voice. The Hero of Ferelden nodded at Aedan and smiled. "We saved lives by bringing all the darkspawn to us and overtaxing our ability. It was the right thing to do."_

_Without warning, another man clanged down in grimy, blood-stained armor next to Pup. Pup jolted up at the sudden sound. "That's cool, just approach a guy from behind and scare him shitless," said Pup._

" _Quiet, there's business to attend to," said the new arrival, clad in the armor Mikhail Dryden forged at Soldiers Keep. He sprawled his legs out but leaned forward to glare at Aedan. Unlike the Hero of Ferelden, this man did not remove his Grey Warden helm, but Aedan_ _saw_ _the bloodshot eyes and darkened veins beneath the visor._

" _I think you know we'd call this guy here," said Pup._

" _Warden," greeted the Hero of Ferelden to the new arrival._

_Pup placed his hands on the Warden's shoulders and gave him a shake. The Warden creaked his gaze at Pup and gave a low growl. Pup shriveled back to his previous spot, putting the Hero of Ferelden between the two. "We don't have a lot of time, let's get this over with," said the Warden. The helm distorted his voice giving it a harsh, metallic ring. He wrung his hands. "Let's get-"_

" _Let's get this four-way started then!" Pup slapped his knee and chuckled. Aedan, the Hero of Ferelden, and the Warden all buried their hands in their faces and grumbled. Pup tugged on his collar and frowned. "Maker, tough crowd."_

" _Do I_ _really_ _sound like that when I make jokes?" asked Aedan._

" _Unfortunately_ _, yes." The Warden crossed his arms and glared over at Pup, who scooched further away._

" _Maker knows what Morrigan has had to put up with," said Aedan._

_The Warden cocked his head sideways. "Who?"_

_Aedan raised an eyebrow. "Morrigan."_

_The Warden and the Hero of Ferelden looked at one another and shrugged. "Rings no bells," said the Hero of Ferelden._

" _...Are you serious?" said Aedan, "We killed her mother, the dragon, to save her from possession?"_

" _Like we'd pursue a random dragon amidst the Blight," said the Warden._

" _Conceived a baby with her that contained the Old God soul?"_

" _I'm sure we killed it, not preserved it," said the Hero of Ferelden._

" _Constantly_ _berates and belittles Alistair?"_

_The Hero of Ferelden scratched his forehead. "Alistair?"_

" _Who the hell is Alistair?" said the Warden._

" _...This is ridiculous. You two of all people should know," Aedan pointed one finger at the Warden and another at the Hero of Ferelden._

" _He's wasting away from blood loss. Let's grab him and go," said the Warden. He pushed up off the ground._

" _Wait," said the Hero of Ferelden, raising his hand to halt the rising Warden. "Give him a sec to choose." The Warden paused, his hand hovering over his scabbard. He grunted once and his hand fell back to his side and he sat back down._

" _Choose what?" said Aedan._

_The Hero of Ferelden stood up and paced back and forth. "Tell me, why do you think we're like this?"_

" _Blood loss and or brain damage, I'm guessing. Or I'm just rather vain," said Aedan._

" _Probably_ _both," remarked Pup._

 _The Hero of Ferelden held his finger to his mouth and shushed Pup. The youngest Aedan rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, but he zipped his lips shut and gestured at the Hero of Ferelden to continue. "Aedan," said the Hero of Ferelden, "do you want to_ _see_ _our family again?"_

" _You mean...my family?_ _Of course I_ _do. That's all I ever…" Aedan paused. His fingers fumbled at his side."_ _Of course._ _"_

 _The Hero of Ferelden grinned at Aedan and clapped his hands together. "Because you...we... can. We can_ _meet_ _them again,_ _exactly_ _as they were. You've heard of near death experiences, when their lives flash before their eyes?"_

_Aedan nodded._

" _Good, because we've got enough left in us for one last ride," said the Hero of Ferelden. His voice ached. He took a deep sigh out. "You can relive it all again. Every good time with them. Mother, father, Oriana, Oren, Fergus, Nan. Teharel will be there too. Hell, even that bastard Adair. It'll be like you were there again. Perhaps in the real world it'll be a flash, but to you it'll be at the same pace you remember. You can have it all again."_

" _What do you mean, 'I can'? Shouldn't it be 'I will'? Aren't I dying anyways? Not much of a choice in the matter."_

" _Dying_ _yes, but-" The Hero of Ferelden paused and glanced at Pup and the Warden. The other two shifted in place while staring at Aedan. "You_ _could_ _try to get back up."_

" _I can't. Avernus's mixture-"_

" _-_ _was never meant_ _to stop your wounds from healing."_

_The other two specters, the Warden and Pup sat up. They approached the Hero of Ferelden and stood side by side with him. The campfire died to a faint ember. They took a step forward through the fading flames._

" _You_ _took it, wanting more power, and so you got it," said Pup. "The weak little pup who_ _could_ _n't even save his family."_

" _You_ _hated yourself for the choices you had to make, you wanted to punish yourself, and so you lost your sense of taste," said the Warden. "The warden who had to carry everything had to give up something...no, he didn't deserve that something."_

" _You_ _wanted to bring all the darkspawn upon you, to protect those around you, and so you did," said the Hero of Ferelden. "The hero who'd protect the world no matter the cost to himself."_

" _You_ _wanted to die," said all three. Their voices echoed and scratched at the inside of Aedan's eardrums. His vision blurred and refocused on the three before him. Their figures shifted and for a_ _brief_ _moment combined. "And so your wounds kept on reopening and bleeding out." Aedan blinked and the three stood separate again. He held his dizzying head. Pup slid into the seat beside Aedan and placed a hand on his shoulder._

" _It's only ever done what you wanted," said Pup, smiling as he did. "We're done, Aedan. It's okay. We can rest now. We can put down our sword and armor and rest. Now we can get the last thing, the first thing, the most important thing, that we want."_

 _Aedan swallowed and looked at the younger him. That would be the face he would_ _see_ _everyday in the mirror if he relived his life. He_ _could_ _rest._ _Finally, after so long, he could rest and go home. The word 'yes' lingered on his tongue but caught in his throat._

" _Can you give me a second?" Aedan asked, leaning over to wring his hands. The specters took another step in, awaiting his answer. Aedan glanced up at their expectant faces. "I'll live it again..._ _exactly_ _as I remembered it?"_

" _Of course._ _"_

" _I'll live it again?"_

" _Of course._ _You need not keep asking that."_

" _I'll...live it...again." Aedan paused and wrung his hands once more. All he had to do was say yes...so just say yes, Aedan told himself. He tried to force the word out of himself, but it wouldn't leave._

" _We need an answer, now, Aedan." Pup's voice distorted and deepened. His fingers gripped into Aedan's shoulder._

" _Just give me a sec-"_

" _We're dying. Soon we won't have enough in us to_ _see_ _them again."_

" _Then why didn't you do it_ _automatically_ _? Why bother with this whole charade? Why give me the choice."_

" _We're not the ones who did this," said the three. Aedan blinked at their comment and looked down at his own hands. A pain welled up within his veins and trickled back into his body._

 _The three specters cringed at the pain returned to the three of them. "We don't have time." remarked the Warden. "If you had been more decisive, then we wouldn't be in this mess at all!" The air rumbled around Aedan as the Warden stomped over. He grabbed Aedan by the collar. "If we had just moved faster that night in Highever, if we weren't so afraid of killing, then we_ _could_ _have saved Oren, Oriana, Mother, Father, and all the Cousland knights!"_

" _Don't we deserve this?" Pup leaned into Aedan's ear whilst he dangled in the Warden's grasp. Uncalloused hands wrapped around Aedan's shoulder. "We've been away from our family for so long. No one should have their family ripped away like we did." Pup nodded at Warden to set down Aedan. The Warden grunted and threw Aedan back down._

 _The Warden trudged over and squatted before Aedan to_ _see_ _him at eye level. "Don't we deserve this?" Through his helm, the Warden's eyes welled up. "We're responsible for so much death. All of House Harrowmont, dead because of us. All those men and women we had to sacrifice during the Blight. Men like us...men like us are better off dead."_

" _Don't we deserve this?" The Hero of Ferelden placed his hand on Aedan's shoulder. "We stopped the Blight. We saved Ferelden. Our duty is done. All that's left for us out there is more fighting. You're tired, so tired. It's time to rest."_

 _The words choked in Aedan's mouth. He_ _could_ _see_ _them again, just as he remembered._

 _He_ _could_  l _ive it again._

_Again._

_Aedan's mouth opened but still nothing left him save for a breath. He grimaced and bit his lip._

_The Warden waved his arm out in an arc and his armor rattled. "Enough." He drew the shattered Cousland hilt, brandishing it at Aedan. "If you can't decide, then we'll decide for you." Before Aedan reacted, the Warden slammed into Aedan, throttling him across infinity. Aedan rolled onto the ground. His hands dipped into the pool of the dead below and they grasped at him._

_The Hero of Ferelden drew the reforged Cousland blade. Pup reached into the depths of the bodies below. He pulled upwards the old Cousland blade, from before it had shattered. As the limbs of the dead clamored beneath him, and the blood pooled in his armor, Aedan watched the three specters stand over him with their weapons._

" _Just give me second!" sputtered Aedan. He stood up once more, but Hero of Ferelden smashed his shield into Aedan's chest and Aedan collapsed back down. Aedan scrambled for any weapon but_ _found none_ _. As he looked back up, Pup slammed his Cousland blade's flat side into Aedan's face. Aedan staggered backwards. The Warden caught him from behind and gutted his broken hilt into Aedan's dessicated side. "Why do you struggle? This is what you wanted."_

_His elbow rammed into the Warden behind him. "When somebody hits me, I hit back-" Aedan blinked through his bleeding eye. The blood gushed out from his Archdemon wound and the warmth faded from his limbs. Aedan stumbled backwards and held both his fists up. Pup uppercut Aedan in the chin, but Aedan gritted his teeth and clenched his neck muscles. He slid back, his feet sinking into the pool of blood and bodies below._

_They were right...he didn't have to fight anymore. His fight, his duty,_ _was done_ _. His fists loosened. In Aedan's hesitation, the Warden struck him from behind with his hilt. The Hero of Ferelden went low and sliced at Aedan's ankles. Try as he might, but when Aedan tried to lift his legs they only trudged forward a toes length._

" _We will_ _see_ _them again," said Pup. He lunged at Aedan and tackled him. Pup sliced his sword at Aedan's face, but Aedan yanked his head out of the path at the last second. Aedan rolled Pup onto his back and slammed the younger him into the dead below. Pup's hands shot out and strangled Aedan with an icy cold grip. Aedan sputtered for breath as the fingers dug into his throat and pierced his skin. "We can live it again."_

_The Warden's boot cracked on Aedan's spine. Aedan's limbs crumbled and Aedan's face splashed into the pool below. Through the thick red abyss, rotted and mutilated faces stared back up at him. He flipped over and coughed out the blood he had swallowed._

" _Every_ _birthday._ _Every_ _dinner._ _Every_ _good day," said the Warden. He stabbed Aedan in the side_ _over and over_ _with the broken hilt. The broken blade broke through the cauterized wound, yet Aedan felt no pain, only a deep lethargy in his body creeping through his limbs. His legs went numb and Aedan fell to his knees._

_The Warden grabbed Aedan by the throat and throttled him into the ground. His fingers dug into the flesh of Aedan's neck and blood dripped out. "Don't be a fool. We sacrificed so much. Let us rest." Aedan scratched at the man's gauntlets, struggling for air, but the Warden took his other hand and tightened around Aedan's neck. He thrust his foot up against the Warden's stomach and threw him off him. Aedan stumbled back up only to find the Hero of Ferelden's shield slicing at him and he jumped backwards._

" _Isn't that why we got up, one last time?" said the Hero of Ferelden. "Those memories, reminding us of the value of a good life. Now we can have that good life again, just like all the people we've given a good life! We deserve this." The Hero of Ferelden kicked out Aedan's feet from beneath him. He raised the reforged Cousland blade above his head and knelt down on one knee above Aedan. The Warden and Pup clasped the blade alongside him. The blade glinted above Aedan. Was this what the Archdemon had seen in it's final moments?_

" _We'll_ _see_ _them soon," his ghosts echoed together. Their hands gripped the hilt together and drove the Cousland blade straight into Aedan's heart._

_And then-_

* * *

"-nothing. I saw nothing," said Aedan. He, Finn, and Ariane hurried through the caverns beneath the Dragonbone Wastes. Vartarell guts dripped down Aedan's armor and trickled into the soil below. Finn and Ariane heaved and huffed whilst they struggled to keep up with Aedan's accelerating pace.

"So all those stories about you dying are fake." Finn paused for a moment to rest his hands on his knees to catch his haggard breath. "I knew it. You just passed out for a bit."

Aedan paused. A puddle in the caverns reflected his distorted image. "Yeah. I just passed out."

His mind wandered to the final parts of that memory, of his specters lying above his dying body, but before Aedan he could finish reminiscing on the final parts of his memory, he glimpsed one of the grimy stone walls. Not long ago, he had been fighting the Mother and her Children in these very caverns. A rotted insect leg protruded from one crack in the wall. He shivered at the memory of the worm-like creatures erupting from their cocoons. "You know, last time I was here, a giant talking broodmother ruled the place with these weird worm darkspawn," he said.

"Okay, now I know you're bullshitting me," replied Finn.

Light shone in from the mouth of the tunnel. The four of them exited out into a gigantic cavern. Gregory's nose and ears perked up and he bounded forward. Aedan, Finn, and Ariane watched Gregory bound up a long stairway to a stone platform. A glowing mirror pulsed at the top, and a familiar black haired mage stared down at them.

Ariane pointed up at the sight. "Look, it's her."

Aedan paused. There she was. Morrigan's hair was bit longer, but other than that she looked preciously the same: her hair in tied up in that same bun, wearing that same old outfit. He watched Gregory run circles around Morrigan's ankles, barking. Morrigan knelt down and greeted the Mabari with a smile and belly rub. Aedan swallowed as he watched Morrigan and Gregory. The feeling had left his legs. Ariane noticed the still Aedan and gave him a small push on the back. "Come on…go talk to her," she smiled.

Aedan took a deep breath in and marched forward. He stopped before the first step of the stairway. He looked up and his gaze met Morrigan's after two years.

"Well, well, well," said Morrigan as she looked down upon him, "What have we here?"

Aedan smiled. What indeed.


	81. Finale

Aedan pinched himself on the cheek and winced. There she was, just as he remembered her, though Morrigan's black hair was longer now.

With Morrigan perched far above him, it reminded Aedan of their first meeting. The image of gnarled Wilds' forests flitted in his vision. Her, that mysterious stranger, who bore mysteries and knowledge, standing far above him,. Him, the lost young man in a strange new role. Had his journey started then? Maybe it when his family had died and Duncan whisked him off. No, that hadn't started it either. If he hadn't learned to fight from Teharel, Duncan would never have recruited him...but if he hadn't gone to that tournament so long ago and realized what an inadequate fighter he was, then he wouldn't have hired Teharel to teach him.

Maybe it started when his parents had read him bedtime stories. They'd tuck him in at night while the candle flickered beside him. His mother sat beside him and read him stories. He'd snuggle up in his wool blanket, enthralled by her myriad of voices, and she'd smile and ruffle his hair. Some were fables about mabari or mythical creatures, but Aedan had always loved the ones about dragons and knights and damsels. He had imagined himself killing the dragon, slicing at it with his sword, standing above the corpse while the crowds cheered and proclaimed him a hero.

No dragon remained- Aedan killed the Archdemon. The blight left the country on the brink of ruin. Thousands had been killed, countless sacrificed by Aedan's orders. From the story only concept of the knight and the damsel remained- if one could even call Morrigan that. If Aedan ever called her 'damsel' or 'princess' to her face, he was certain she'd burn his off. In the stories, the maiden had always embraced the hero, forever grateful to him for saving her. Sure, Aedan had saved her from death in battle, but she had done the same for him. They owed the other no blood debt. They had revealed their secrets to one another: her, the dark ritual, and him, his knowledge of the archdemon slayer's fate- so they owed neither any more secrets.

So all that stood between them-

"I expect you have questions," replied Morrigan, breaking Aedan from his reverie. Her eyes measured the distance between them and shot back at him.

Aedan swallowed and replied, "I do." His eyes glanced at his feet then at Morrigan's. One wrong step and she might flee. "Of course I do. These past two years, I've reiterated the same questions. Always one returned, whether sleeping or awake." Aedan wrung his hands, took a deep breath in, and looked up at Morrigan. "The question I didn't want to ask but I knew I'd have to ask." Aedan inhaled again. He had rehearsed this moment a thousand times. Him, a distance away, her, wearing that same outfit of red robes and stitched leather. He knew if he ever saw her again what he must ask.

Morrigan stood, awaiting for Aedan's question. She stilled her fidgeting fingers but they resumed in the silence that the man sustained. His eyes closed and he moistened his lips to speak. Aedan's shut eyes scrunched together while his fists tightened. His mouth opened. Morrigan swallowed. Her breath stopped while she awaited his words and her teeth clicked.

Aedan opened his eyes, his brow furrowed, his voice solemn with a rumbling gravitas he had only used regarding Archdemon, and asked the question that would decide his fate:

"How are you still wearing that outfit?"

Water dripped into the pools of the cave and their splashes filled the silence. Morrigan's eye twitched and she leaned her ear forward. "...What?"

Aedan pointed over at Morrigan's usual robes and frowned while waving about his surroundings. "Your robes have no insulation. How are you not freezing? It's a gigantic cave with icy pools of water." He breathed out into both his hands and gestured at the hazy breath in the air. "You can see my breath! Am I the only one freezing?"

"It's rather chilly," piped in Finn, rubbing both his arms and shivering. Ariane nodded alongside the mage.

Aedan threw his arms in the air. "Thank you."

Morrigan held up a finger while grinding her teeth."I-"

Gregory barked in reply to Aedan. His fur bristled. Aedan gestured at Gregory. "See, even he agrees, and he's covered in fur." Gregory turned and barked at Morrigan again. The witch narrowed her eyes at the dog. Gregory shrunk and whimpered.

Aedan scratched his chin. His head cocked sideways. "Easy access for breastfeeding is a plus though, I'll give you that."

The witch's eyebrows tightened and furrowed. "I-" A vein bulged on her forehead.

"Wait, did you bare your stomach the entire time you were pregnant?" Aedan grimaced, patting his own stomach. "That just irresponsible. What if the baby got cold?"

What little smile Morrigan mustered now twisted into a scowl while she massaged her temples. "Of course, of course, OF COURSE," she seethed, her voice echoing throughout the cavern and startling small bats into flight, "this is the first thing you say after two years!" She flung her arm forward in the air whilst she fumed. "Why did I expect you to be capable of a single serious conversation?"

Aedan held up a finger to shush Morrigan. "First, I'm seriously asking the question. Second, you're avoiding answering."

"Fine!" said Morrigan, her words accelerating,"I briefly wore maternity clothes, are you happy?"

"I guess." Aedan shrugged his shoulders. "From a visual standpoint, I've always liked the outfit, but you have to consider the kid. The getup is a little racy. What if while I grew up my mother always wore that?" The thought struck him and Aedan cringed and held out his hand. His tongue flopped out whilst he gagged. "Ugh. Just imagined my dead mother in your clothing. This is a weird day."

Morrigan's hand trembled. Her left eye would not stop twitching. "Funny, I just imagined your mother dropping you on the head as a child, as this current conversation suggests that occurred," she said through clenched teeth.

Whilst Aedan and Morrigan bickered, Finn turned to Ariane."You said they loved each other, right?" he muttered into her ear.

"I...think so?" replied Ariane.

"I'm just saying," said Aedan, flailing his arms up and down his body, "some leather armor, protect you from scratches and the such. What if you ever run out of magic reserves?"

Morrigan buried her face in her hand while she rubbed at her temples to ease her worsening headache. "Why did I expect that I could converse with you?"

"Conversation would imply you're on the other end listening, but clearly you haven't taken my comments to heart, so I feel like I'm talking to a wall. Communication goes both ways."

"I hear your comments and I have taken them to heart as a idiot's ramblings."

"Oh look, two minutes in and you've already insulted me twice." Aedan rolled his eyes. He held his fingers out and counted several seconds with them. "Here we go, minute three. Shall we keep up the current rate?"

Morrigan crossed her arms and scowled at him.

"That works too." Aedan sighed and waved his hand off. "Have it your way, woman."

"I will."

"Good."

"Fine!"

The two caught their breath from their shouting match. Morrigan brushed aside both a lock of raven hair and a bead of sweat from her forehead. "It seems as though the varterral gave you no trouble, otherwise you'd lack the energy to waste on that conversation."

Aedan shrugged. "Yeah, just the usual business." He stepped once towards the stairway. The witch retreated a step. Her palm jutted out before her and the mirror behind her pulsed. "Not one step further."

Aedan scratched his neck whilst breaking his gaze from Morrigan. He ground his front foot into the dirt below. His eyes glanced back up. "Rather cold, don't you think?"

"Tis the way things must be," said Morrigan, "Please...understand."

"You left without a clear explanation."

"I told you all you needed to know. Besides...were you not the one who let me go from that rooftop in Denerim?"

"I did."

"And yet you still chase after me?" Morrigan shook her head. "See, you will never understand me, and I will never understand you."

"Yet still you linger here. Vartarrel screams shook the entire Wastes. You had enough warning to leave. Why didn't you?"

Morrigan's gaze wavered. She bit her lip and swallowed. "You kept the ring," she whispered, the harshness wilting from her tone.

Aedan smiled, removed his right gauntlet, and waved his ring-bearing hand at her. "Not going to ask why?"

"I know why. Because you are...you."

Aedan pointed at Morrigan's hand. "You kept the one I gave you."

"I…" Morrigan glanced down at her hand. Her finger rubbed against the ring upon it. "Enough. T'would be better for us both if we remained on our separate sides. You are the Warden-Commander and I have my own duties." Morrigan shifted towards the mirror and her gaze wandered towards it's glass. She stared into the mirror but it still reflected Aedan below. The witch clutched her robe near her heart. "Our paths intersected and now must diverge. One final time. I must prepare the child for his eventual destiny...and more."

"More?"

"Change," said Morrigan. She looked at Finn and Ariane, her gaze cold and foreboding, then turned back to Aedan. "Change is coming to the world. There are those who are fight it, fear it, but still it comes. Sometimes change is what they need the most. Sometimes change...change sets them free."

Aedan said nothing to that. He mulled over her words in silence, rolling his tongue in his mouth. "Is that what you want? To be free?"

"What I want…" Morrigan glanced backwards at Aedan but whipped back to the mirror, "What I want is unimportant."

"But it's there isn't it?" said Aedan, "The want- because you're not just a Witch of the Wilds. You're not just the bearer of Flemeth's legacy. You're more than that."

"Acknowledging the want exists does not make it important."

"What you want is important to me."

"Simply because it is your desire as well."

"Is that so bad? We don't exist solely to carry out another's will. Their will doesn't change the world. We do."

* * *

 _Aedan lay on the ground once more, except now no Archdemon flew up above, and none of his family hovered over him. Dead hands clamored against his skin, pulling him deeper into the pool of blood below. Each time a hand grasped him, his old aches from scars and fractures eased away. His own blood trickled into the liquid beneath. Though a sword protruded from his chest, no pain plagued him. His chilled limbs were not_ _overly_ _so- it was_ _like_ _lying wrapped in cool linen sheets, sleepy after a long day._

 _And it_ _indeed_ _had been a long day._ _A long year._ _A long lifetime. His specters were right. Didn't he deserve to rest? Didn't he deserve to be free? he'd see them again: Father, Mother, Fergus, Oriana, Oren, Nan, Teharel. He could rest, free of pain and regret. His family_ _would_ _be just as he remembered them._

 _They_ _would_ _be...just as he...remembered them._

_Just as he remembered them._

_Aedan scrunched his brow. His heart twinged. Amidst the_ _oblivion_ _, a pain hummed in his chest. Why couldn't his specters remember Morrigan? It made no sense. Even though his final peace approached, Morrigan's face invaded his mind: her hair, mottled with blood, clinging to her sweaty face as she kneeled over him. Her tears restrained by sheer force of will, little droplets at the corners of her eyes. Trembling words stuck in her hoarse throat. So why couldn't they remember her?_

 _Aedan reached up towards the abyss. Was he raising his hand in real life? Were his_ _companions_ _still hovering above? The other versions of him hadn't remembered Alistair either- his best friend, his brother-in-arms. Alistair, now the sole Warden, no doubt strolled his face through his tears._ _Leliana_ _was bawling her eyes out. Gregory_ _would_ _lick his face, growling at anyone that approached Aedan's corpse._

 _His finger fidgeted as though stroking Morrigan's face. No, she'd have left by now. She had always planned to leave. He was no different. He expected his own death for months._ _Both doomed the relationship from the start- and that was fine._ _She had destinies to fulfill. He_ _would_ _return to his family._

 _Right before they had faced the Archdemon, he tried to tell Morrigan goodbye. Though Aedan hadn't said the exact word, for_ _all_ _intents and purposes he had upon his death. He had told her he was going home. He had accepted he was leaving them_ _all_ _. But he_ _would_ _say the word now, to end it. To bookend his existence. To go home._

" _Goodbye," Aedan said. Nothing pained his heart as the word left him, yet the thoughts of his_ _companions_ _' faces still plagued him. His hand still stretched upwards._

" _Goodbye," repeated Aedan. The silence remained. His companion's faces remained in his thoughts. His lungs failed him now- he tried to inhale in to no avail. Only one breath left. One word. He had enough for that._

_He opened his mouth and his lips pushed out to make a 'g' sound, but he paused before doing so. A single face remained in his thoughts. His final breath left him:_

" _Morrigan."_

 _When he said_ _that_ _word, the pain returned to his limbs. That word echoed in the darkness,_ _reverberating_ _in his eardrums. His chest palpitated. He gasped in for air. Just breathing sent spasms through his chest. His arm ached from swinging his sword but he kept reaching up. Images flittered in his mind of what could be: eating sandwiches with Alistair, making snide jokes with Shale._ _Raising_ _his son together with Morrigan. Watching her smile, watching their son become a man, growing, laughing, living together._

 _Then the pain faded as the word_ _disintegrated_ _. Aedan thought of Morrigan again. The searing pain returned, but he kept thinking of her this time, kept picturing that way she'd turn away after he said something stupid and romantic and hide her smile. How on the battlefield she'd grin with such pride as she unleashed her magic. The way she'd never ask him to spoon or cuddle or hug but she'd mumble in a quiet voice and he'd embrace her and make her blush and mumble again. Her cooking, simple but filled with that hint of herbs that tickled his stomach. That mean laugh of hers, one that shouldn't make him happy but he always smiled at it. That scowl of hers, Maker he loved pissing her off and making her scowl. He could give up food if he meant he could see that scowl. Was it childish? Yes, Aedan couldn't deny that but it was more than just making her scowl, it was knowing where to prod and push. The witch knew, he knew, and between the two it was a dance, a twisted prideful waltz through the weaknesses they spotted in one another; she'd call him a glutton, a fool, a hopeless optimist, and he'd call her grumpy heartless, out of touch, fickle, but the dance_ _would_ _settle into a calm lull where they smiled and laughed._

 _Speaking_ _of food, he hadn't taken Alistair to that fish sandwich shop in Denerim. The best fish sandwich Aedan ever had:_ _practically_ _a grease_ _delivery_ _system_ _. A nice crispy fry, fresh mayo, and butter slathered in every nook and cranny of the bread. Alistair_ _would_ _love it._

 _What_ _about_ _the rest of his_ _companions_ _?_ _Leliana_ _had promised to compose a song_ _about_ _him. It'd be_ _embarrassing_ _and grandiose but she always sang so well so he never minded. Shale- he had started to soften that granite golem. Then there was that stupid nagging of Wynne, that rambunctious antics Oghren always delivered, Sten's deadpan_ _expressions_ _, Zevran's grand stories and boisterous partying._

 _And Gregory, what_ _about_ _Gregory, who_ _would_ _play fetch with him and scratch him in just the right spot under the chin?_

 _The three specters wrapped their hands around Aedan's outstretched right. They dragged him_ _down_ _, refusing to let go. Despite the peace, despite the lack of pain, although he'd see his family again, Aedan had to utter his question: "I'll live it..._ _exactly_ _as it was?"_

" _Of course,"_ _replied the other versions of him._

 _Aedan paused. Tears now streamed_ _down_ _his face. "Didn't I_ _already_ _live it though?"_

 _His specters paused. They knelt_ _down_ _by his side. "Please," said Pup, clasping Aedan's hand again. Now his younger self trembled with Aedan's hand in his own._ _"Don't you want to see them again?_ _Don't you want the pain to stop?"_

" _Of course I_ _do," sputtered Aedan, "but we_ _did see_ _them. Over countless years and moments._ _Sharing_ _laughter, smiles, tears, pain. Moments became memories. If you had to ask me to choose between reliving memories...or living moments…"_

 _Aedan wrenched his hand loose from Pup's. He was more than an existence that ended and began in Highever, stuck in a cycle of memories_ _already_ _lived. He could still be better. Still take a single step forward._ _Maybe_ _one day he'd buckle under the pressure of the Grey Warden, or he'd crumble beneath his wounds and scars, or he'd look in the mirror and see a monster. But-_

" _They're worth it," gritted Aedan, mustering_ _all_ _the strength he could. And with each word he spoke, the pain returned. "She's worth it."_

 _He pushed against the bloodied pool of limbs and bodies beneath him._ _The_ _pain trickled back into his body: every bruise, every burn, every stab wound.. His punctured lungs gasped for air._ _The_ _sheer pain overwhelmed him, pushing him limp back_ _down_ _._ _B_ _lood gushed from his scars. Aedan gritted his teeth and flipped back onto his belly. His arms shook as he_ _began to push_ _himself back up._

 _His specters tried to push him back_ _down_ _, but as the pain returned to Aedan so did it to the three ghosts: Pup, the Warden, and the Hero of Ferelden writhed._

 _No, not ghosts, thought Aedan,_ _reflections_ _: distorted and fractured from his memories. He, Aedan, was the only one of them to remember Morrigan. The only one to remember his_ _companions_ _. Because if they were_ _truly_ _his ghosts, they'd remember_ _all_ _those people._

 _He shook free from the clawing limbs._ _"So I'll get up one more time."_ _A single heartbeat echoed. The blood dripped from his mouth and splashed beneath. His arms shook as he pushed himself back up. "No! Not one more time." His heart beat again. "As many times as I have to." The third time rumbled in his ears._

" _A man gets back up," wheezed Aedan,_ _repeating_ _the words of his father, "No matter how many times he's knocked_ _down_ _."_

 _His heart beat_ _like_ _the wild drums of war, rumbling and pounding in his ears. The blood rushed back through his veins and every limb and sweat trickled_ _down_ _his flushed skin, yet through the pain and wounds, Aedan could picture them,_ _all_ _of them, still out there. Morrigan, Alistair,_ _Leliana_ _, Wynne, Shale, Oghren, Sten, Zevran, Gregory, and countless others._

" _Because-" Aedan slipped in his own blood again but he slammed his right foot_ _down_ _and caught himself. His legs trembled_ _like_ _a newborn druffalo as he stood up._

 _The words he had spoken to Riordan lingered on his tongue: everything a man does, everything he_ _experiences_ _, every fight, every loss, and every sacrifice, leaves its mark on him._ _All_ _that makes a man at the moment when he does the most important thing a person does._

_Choose._

_If he_ _chose to remain_ _here, had he learnt_ _anything_ _from living? His family, no not just them,_ _all_ _his_ _companions_ _, had taught him to save people, to fight fear, to bring hope, to enact justice, to lead others, to have faith, to be strong, to love, and so many other things._ _If he surrendered here and now, he could accomplish none of those._ _If he laid_ _down_ _here and now, he hadn't_ _really_ _lived his old life._

 _Living_ _something meant it had to end. Things ended. His old life had ended._ _Yes, he_ _would_ _never get to say goodbye nor see his family again._ _He'd never have his mother and father bear-hug him and call him Pup. He'd never get to tell stories to Oren, or gossip with Oriana, or badger with Fergus, or eat Nan's cooking, or drink with Teharel._

_And that was okay._

" _Because-"_

 _Because goodbye was just a word you told yourself. You could say it over and over but it_ _would_ _never reach their ears. It changed nothing._ _You'd still awaken tomorrow the same person._ _He could say it till the end of time, but it didn't matter. It didn't mean squat if you didn't let go._ _Saying_ _goodbye didn't change things._ _He_ _did._ _He had let go, and let his companions take care of Highever's corpses. He had let go and let himself cry. He_ _had let go of his flask and struggled against the constant crutch for another drink. It wasn't_ _about_ _saying words or spouting platitudes. Aedan had trudged forward, bit by bit, forging a path ahead by his actions. His choices._

 _His_ _companions_ _, his friends, his Morrigan, they weren't gone: Aedan could still choose them._ _No, he'd always chosen this._ _He had chosen Shale over the Anvil._ _Leliana_ _over his own fear of killing. Alistair over Loghain. He risked their entire mission by pursuing Flemeth for Morrigan. Instead of his_ _guaranteed_ _end, his way back home, his peace, his duty, Aedan had chosen one last night with the woman he loved._

 _Avernus's_ _ability_ _kickstarted in Aedan's veins. Sinew stitched itself back up upon Aedan's side. The left side of his vision returned filled with tears and blood dripping_ _down_ _his face. The heat rushed to his face and Aedan sputtered through his hoarse throat, "Because I want-"_

 _He whipped his head up to finish his words but his phantoms had_ _disappeared_ _. The world swirled and light penetrated the abyss. Gravity slammed_ _down_ _upon him and the weight of his own body returned. He blinked and the sight of his_ _companions_ _, sans Morrigan, greeted him. He urged himself up but he fell back onto the floor of Fort Drakon and his_ _companions_ _, still speechless, reassured him_ _down_ _. Gregory barked in his ear and licked at his face and Aedan mustered the last of his strength to fling his limp hand onto the mabari's furry head to halt the onslaught of slobber. The vision in his left eye blurred but with his right he saw Alistair mouth_ _incoherent_ _words and wipe aside his tears._

 _Aedan chuckled but that agitated his side and the man's eyes widened and he clutched at his tender left side. He breathed in that noxious smell of fresh corpses and cinders. His nose wrinkled._ _Disgusting_ _. He propped himself up on his arms and smiled at his sniffling_ _companions_ _. "Maker, who the hell died?"_

* * *

"Not another step, or I will go." The tight cold facade her face tried to maintain trembled. Despite her warning, still Morrigan did not flee into the mirror.

"We could leave here today, both of us, alone," said Aedan, "We'd have our duties to attend to. People and even gods to save and kill. That's what we should do, because it's the right thing to do. We have to do it, because we're the only ones who can. We need to do it, because if not us, who else?"

"Then you understand."

"But I wouldn't be happier. You wouldn't be happier."

"That doesn't matter."

"It does matter. You matter. I matter."

"It would be easier for you. For me. For us both."

Aedan clenched his fists. "Right here, right now, you're in front of me. If we separated today, it'd mean I was too afraid to take your hand and chose the easy way out. That I fell back down, and lay there. That I was living a half-life.

"And I know one day we'll separate again. Maybe by circumstance. Maybe by choice. Who knows, maybe in the next minute you'll run through that portal and I'll never see you again. That's the fate of all things...all people...all families." Aedan's voice quieted. He stared beyond Morrigan, but only momentarily. He focused back on the woman before him. "But it doesn't make what was, what could be, what will be, any less precious.

"Morrigan, if I had to choose one thing in this world, one person, then...you know what my answer would be. Over and over again." Aedan paused. The scars in his right arm ached, from that fateful day in Highever. The puncture wound on his left side from the Archdemon stung. "If I had to relive all the suffering that created this moment, I would do it. You're worth it. You're worth it all."

Aedan looked down at the stairway. He took his first step onto it, glancing up to see whether Morrigan had moved. The witch stood motionless, rubbing at her arm and biting her lip. So Aedan began his ascent upwards.

"I want to wake up in the morning next to you." Aedan stepped forward, Morrigan stepped back.

"I want to tease you and irritate you and have you scowl at me." Aedan stepped forward, Morrigan hesitated.

"I want all of us, you, me, our son, to have dinner together and smile and laugh." Aedan stepped forward, Morrigan stood still.

One final step in the stairway. Aedan paused. His foot hovered above. For a moment, he thought to look backwards. Something called, but he heard no voice. Hands brushed at his back, though no one did. If he looked backwards, what specters would he see? One by one they came to mind. Branka. Zathrien. Howe. Marjolaine. Harrowmont. Loghain. The village of Lothering. Teharel. Adair. Nan. Oren. Oriana. His mother. His father.

Though his gaze focused on Morrigan, all his specters stood behind him, watching, staring. Yet that was just it- there were no specters. Nothing pulled down upon him, nothing tugged him away. Only the staircase he had traversed was behind him. No ghosts, just memories. Moments passed and gone, happy and sad, painful and elevating.

_Because I want to-_

The words he hadn't gotten to scream after the Archdemon's death, before his specters had faded, lingered on his tongue. The words Aedan never thought he'd have to scream, the words that he always wanted to scream, because he knew the reason why his parents had saved him that night, so long ago: not to kill an Archdemon, nor to avenge their family, but the thing they desired most for him, the thing he had wanted the most for them. The only thing you wanted for someone you loved.

Aedan's heart clenched.

_Because I want to-_

His foot stepped onto the platform. He stared Morrigan straight in the eyes. The words ached and heaved in his throat, but he willed them forward.

"I want to live, Morrigan."

At those words, Morrigan froze. Aedan's foot lay rest upon the same ground as hers. No longer did she stare down, but up at the taller man.

"Do you?" Aedan asked. As Aedan approached Morrigan, she hesitated but didn't retreat. Aedan removed his gauntlets, then cupped Morrigan's cheek with his right hand.

"Because for me, right now, in this moment-" Aedan stroked her cheek with his thumb. An electric jolt ran down from his fingers through his body. Morrigan's finger kneaded at the fabric at her side, and the rise and fall of her chest hastened. The beat of Aedan's own heart echoed in his ears, till they almost blocked out the next words he said. "-living means that I kiss the woman I love."

Morrigan's lips quivered. She swallowed and her throat trembled. Her glassy gaze stared into his eyes. Her hand rested on his armor. Fingers wandered away from the cold steel towards Aedan's warm neck. Aedan moved in, grabbed her by the waist, and stopped his lips inches away from hers.

"So that's what I'm going to goddamn do."

Aedan plunged his lips up against Morrigan's. Through closed eyes he saw nothing, but felt the tug of Morrigan's hand at back of his neck and parting of her lips while she pressed them back against his. He savoured those lips: dark, rich, and sweet. Morrigan's tears trickled into her mouth and their salty taste slid onto Aedan's tongue. Her fingers dug into the back of his neck, almost painful, but her grip loosened: Morrigan broke first, having forgotten to breathe. A little moan escaped her lips while she gasped for air. Even while they breathed their lips clung together. Only a few breaths in, Morrigan dove her lips back into Aedan's and clutched her arms around his neck. Her left leg floated up as Aedan pulled her in by the waist and his hand pressed against her bare back. This time she remembered to breath through her nose and the two kissed for awhile until Ariane and Finn coughed and turned away. Aedan and Morrigan heard the coughing and halted in their embrace. Their eyes shot open and the two looked at one another. Morrigan stifled a laugh. Aedan smiled and wiped aside the tears streaming down Morrigan's face and chuckled. Morrigan's fingers dabbed at the corner of Aedan's welled up eyes. Her head rested in the crook of his neck whilst she nuzzled against him. She took deep breaths in to slow her breathing. Morrigan let out one last trembling breath that lingered against Aedan's skin.

Morrigan placed her hand over Aedan's. "Then come, my love." Her mouth pressed up against his skin, so Aedan could not see her expression, but he felt her lips drag against his skin and turn to a smile. "Let us face the future together."

Aedan held her tight and nodded. He smiled, and hugged her with both arms, hoisting her up. Morrigan's feet dangled in the air. Aedan swung her in a circle, laughing. For a moment Morrigan slammed her arms against Aedan's chest to stop, her face reddened. Aedan set her down with a grin. Gregory bounded up to Aedan and wagged his tail. He barked at Morrigan. Aedan gestured down at the mabari. "Can he?" he asked, beaming.

Morrigan looked down at Gregory, up at Aedan's pouting lip, and sighed. She knelt down- Gregory bounded to her. She scratched the mabari under the chin. "I figure I'm already bringing back one dirty mongrel with me, might as well bring another."

The dog barked back up at her.

The witch glared down at the mabari. "However, you must behave yourself. This means you cannot eat all my herbs, as you always did. Many of those are for the child, do you understand?"

Gregory whined and licked at Morrigan's ankle. The witch rolled her eyes and pulled a small bundle of herbs from her bag and offered it to the mabari. Gregory slobbered at her hand whilst feasting. Drool dripped off her fingers. Morrigan cringed. She wiped her hand on Aedan's armor. He frowned and swerved away from her but Morrigan had already wiped the majority of the drool onto him.

"What? He's your dog," said Morrigan.

"Fair enough. And, by the way, I'm not a dirty mong-"

As he flicked off Gregory's drool, Aedan caught glimpse of his greaves, covered in varterral blood. "I'm not a mongrel."

"Clearly you've never watched yourself eat in a mirror," muttered Morrigan.

"I heard that."

"Oh, good. I feared I stuttered."

Aedan snorted at the remark. Morrigan smirked. Aedan smiled back and planted a quick kiss on her lips. He whistled over at Gregory and pointed at his bag. Gregory's jaws gripped Aedan's satchel and the mabari barreled to him. Aedan and Morrigan walked towards the glowing Eluvian together.

"Oi, her book." Aedan jabbed his thumb over at Ariane.

"Fine." Morrigan rolled her eyes. She gave a small wave to Ariane and pointed over to an abandoned tent. "Your book, elf, is over in the camp there. Tis intact. If anything, I've left it cleaner than how I found it."

Whilst Ariane rushed over the camp and retrieved her book, Finn said, "What, you're just leaving? Like that? "What about the Wardens? What about Ferelden?" Finn's eyes widened. His face went pale."Oh Maker, they're going to think I killed you somehow. Of course, the mage gets blamed for it all. They'll send me to prison, have me made tranquil, Maker I hope they at least keep the cells clean. Oh, I'm getting dizzy just thinking about it."

Ariane patted him from behind, the book tucked under her arm. "Relax, Finn. We'll be fine."

Aedan tilted back his head while scratching at his hair. He smiled down upon his two companions. Aedan pondered for a brief second, then chuckled and shook his head. "You know what? For once, I'll let the world figure out it."

Morrigan leaned her head against Aedan's shoulder, while the two approached the eluvian. Morrigan pressed her hand against it. The doorway alit. Aedan squinted at the blinding light. Gregory bounded into the doorway first. The mirror crackled and lightning sparked from it. Morrigan tugged on Aedan and nodded.

As Aedan stepped into the portal with his arm wrapped around Morrigan, he flashed a final smile at Ariane and Finn. "And if you have to tell them something, tell them-"

* * *

"-tell them I'm happy," said Ariane, as she finished her story to Fergus and the rest.

She and Finn sat across from Fergus, Leliana, Oghren, Sigrun, and Genitivi. Tapster's Tavern quieted in the afternoon: a calm before the storm of the drunken nights, one that allowed Fergus and the others to hear Ariane and Finn's story in peace. The two had sought out Fergus after returning from the Dragonbone Wastes: at very least, they thought he should know Aedan's fate.

"So he's gone." Fergus gave a lopsided smile. He looked down at his glass of whiskey. The liquid shifted within. He took a small sip from it while pondering the story in silence.

Leliana turned to Oghren. "What about the wardens? Think they'll let him just run off like that?"

"Bah! Aedan hasn't run off," Oghren chuckled and twirled the end of beard. He glanced at Sigrun and elbowed her. "He's just on an extra dangerous mission. By the Stone, who knows how long it'll take him to complete it. Isn't that right, Sigrun?"

"Oh, yes, indeed...now there's...uh...two headed talking darkspawn. Twice the talking!"

"We'll work on the story later." Oghren nudged Sigrun whilst grabbing his pack. "Come on, let's bring the news to Vigil's Keep."

As the groups departed off: Finn and Ariane, to places unexplored, Genitivi, back to the Denerim chantry to compile his writing, Oghren and Sigrun, back to the wardens, Fergus and Leliana were left alone in Tapster's Tavern.

"So what now for you?" Leliana finished off her ale and prepared to leave by putting on her coat.

"The Denerim Cousland estate is still here, I'll take care of some business in Denerim and stay there. Someone should tell Alistair about what happened as well. After that I'll pack it in for the night."

"Knowing Alistair, he'll be giddy and sad simultaneously."

"How about you?" asked Fergus. "What next?"

"The Divine has asked me to return and run more of her operations in person, so back to Orlais."

"Think you'll miss Ferelden?"

Leliana smiled and inhaled the familiar Ferelden scent. "I'm sure the Divine will assign me a variety of missions that will take me back here."

Fergus thought of his brother, and pictured his last smile as he had entered the eluvian. He had not been there, but he could picture the smile. Wide from cheek to cheek, his eyes almost squinting, the hint of a laugh escaping him.

When had Fergus last seen Aedan smile so? Fergus paused, and remembered the day he had left Highever for Ostagar. He had joked about wenches in front of his mother and his son, and Aedan had grinned. Fergus snorted at the thought of it.

"I like that smile," said Leliana.

Fergus's eyes darted at the sister. "How'd you know what I was thinking about?"

"I didn't." Leliana leaned over the table and poked at the corners of his mouth. Fergus put his hand over his expression, felt it up once, and chuckled.

"You know, I might stick around here for awhile before turning in. Find a pretty girl and ask her to have a drink with me." Fergus laughed and scratched at the back of his head.

"Might as well live a little," mused Leliana.

The two paused and looked at one another. Fergus coughed and willed up his courage. "Leliana," asked Fergus, "Want to have a drink with me?"

Leliana's eye widened for a brief moment, but the sister leaned in and smiled at Fergus. She waved over at the waitress. "Another of the same scotch for him, and a glass of red wine for me...bartender's choice." With none of the usual crowd around, the drinks arrived in but a minute. Leliana removed her coat and raised her glass to Fergus. Fergus raised his glass up to Leliana's. "A toast to Aedan, then," said Leliana, "To my friend."

Fergus's glass clinked against Leliana's. "To the-" said Fergus, before halting. Fergus considered the titles his brother wore: Pup, the Warden, the Hero of Ferelden. Though as a child Aedan had dreamed of a glorious title, in recent years he had just asked people to call him Aedan. He'd like something simple. Aedan hadn't fought for complicated reasons: he had people he loved, and so he fought for them. That's what he'd always done, before, during, and after the Blight.

Fergus nodded at Leliana. "To my brother, the warrior."

* * *

Gregory napped beneath the shade of a tree. Aedan stroked the fur between his ears. Gregory grunted in his sleep, his ear twitching.

"This one seems larger than the others," remarked Aedan. The three of them had passed through several mirrors. One had led to a floating walkway of stone and magic. Another had led to an underground cave. Morrigan had led them a final resting place: a vast meadow stretched out before them. Sparse trees littered the surroundings. Aedan watched the green grass rustle in the slight wind. "How do we even get wind in here? Or light?" He glanced at the small tent next to them. His fingers drummed against his thighs.

"The ancient elves were nothing if not resourceful. It took awhile, but I scouted a suitable location to habitate in. Clean water, fertile soil, and plenty of sunlight." Morrigan nudged Gregory's paw with her foot. His ears twitched, but still the mabari slumbered. "He fell asleep quickly," said Morrigan as she lay her pack down upon the ground.

"He's tired. I'm tired. We did just kill a mythical creature from elven legends." Aedan groaned and stretched his arms out. "No big deal."

"Yes, how very impressive." Morrigan patted at Aedan's shoulders. "Come...take off your armor. You're covered in blood."

"My armor?"

"Your armor."

Aedan looked about at the clear skies. He was in a land unknown, one separated from Ferelden. His mind calculated the possible dangers, racking and pondering. In the midst of his thoughts, he glanced at the frowning Morrigan. He smiled at that familiar frown.

"What?" asked Morrigan.

Aedan shook his head. "Nothing." One by one he removed all his armor, and stacked it in a neat pile. The armorless Aedan peered around while Morrigan approached from behind.

Morrigan brought her nose to his shirt and sniffed. She covered her nose, holding back a gag. "Do you have a spare shirt?"

"Why?"

Morrigan pointed at Aedan's pit stains and the ripped fabric. The sweat and rigor of the battles that brought him here had taken it's toll.

"There's one in my bag." Aedan reached for his pack. He jumped as Morrigan's hands reached beneath his shirt. "I can take the shirt off myself," he said.

Morrigan's eyes met his and pouted. Aedan raised his arms up in compliance. Before taking off his shirt, Morrigan leaned in and pulled apart the eyelids of Aedan's left eye. "It's a different shade of brown."

"Yeah, well, regenerating an eye isn't my expertise, so I'm just glad it grew back at all."

"So you grew back an eye? You never cease to bewilder me."

Morrigan pulled the shirt off Aedan. While Aedan rummaged in his pack for the spare, Morrigan caught glimpse of Aedan's left side. Her hands brushed over the massive scar tissue and pinkish, distorted flesh. "I told you to stop getting more scars."

"I got bitten by an Archdemon then cauterized the wound. I'm lucky it's just a scar."

"Ugh. Couldn't Wynne have done something?" Morrigan poked at the warped flesh.

Aedan winced as her fingernail poked a tender spot. "Apparently for something this bad, it requires daily healing magic, and she went off to Tevinter with Shale."

"We'll have plenty of time for that then." Morrigan leaned in and pecked Aedan on the lips. She paused and leaned her forehead against his. "Perhaps time for it now."

Aedan kissed her back, but before doing so Morrigan saw his eyes wander towards the tent beside them. After they broke from their kiss, she smiled and nodded towards the tent. Aedan gulped. "If he's sleeping, I can wait," said Aedan. "I'd rather his first impression of me not be the ass who woke him up."

"No, I know you. I'll wake him up...but just a moment for the two of us. Tis rare that he sleeps so soundly." Morrigan tugged on Aedan's sleeve and gestured at his legs. Aedan obliged and opened up his legs, and Morrigan sat down with Aedan behind her. He wrapped his arms around her, but Morrigan tugged them closer around herself. The two said nothing as they sat there, basking in the other's warmth.

He understood. Two lives now intertwined with a third. They'd still have their own moments, them two, but their lives would never be as they were during the Blight. Different wasn't bad though. Change was inevitable.

Aedan broke from their embrace and nodded at Morrigan. The witch paced into the nearby tent while Aedan put on his clean shirt. Aedan wrung his hands outside, taking deep breaths in to slow his heartbeat. He looked down at the ground, his heart racing, his hands a little clammy.

"Aedan?"

"Hmm?"

Aedan looked back up. In Morrigan's arms was a small child. Aedan froze. The sleepy child yawned and stared at Aedan with curious eyes. Morrigan sat down next to Aedan with their son in her lap. "This is our son, Kieran," she whispered.

"Really?" Aedan chuckled. "Kieran?"

"T'was the only name I could think of that we'd ever agreed upon." Morrigan stroked the top of Kieran's head, where a little tuft of dark hair had sprouted. Kieran looked up at Morrigan. Morrigan scratched under Kieran's chin ."This is your father. Can you say that? Fa-ther." The small child mumbled and giggled. Morrigan smiled and handed him over to Aedan.

Small. So small. So much lighter than his sword and shield. Aedan cradled the child like a snowflake. Kieran rustled in his hands. Aedan froze and his arms tensed up. Morrigan wrapped her hands around Aedan's, guiding the child closer to him. Kieran gurgled and giggled, and reached towards Aedan. Aedan cradled Kieran in one arm, and wiggled his finger before the child. Kieran clasped both hands around Aedan's. Something stuck in Aedan's throat. He tried to exhale the words but only a croak ebbed out.

"Look at that." Morrigan rested her head on Aedan's shoulder. Her arms snaked about his shoulders, tugging her warden close. "After all our time together, I've finally managed to leave you speechless for once."

Aedan's eyes welled up while playing with Kieran. He wriggled his fingers mid-air and Kieran squealed in delight. His soft baby fingers batted at Aedan's calloused hands. Aedan tried to say something again, but it only croaked out of him.

"Did you want to say something?" asked Morrigan.

"I...just...gah." Aedan held his hand to his mouth. Kieran mumbled back at him. "I just haven't said it in…" Aedan opened his mouth again, but his words caught in his throat as tears dripped down his cheek. He couldn't stop smiling at the child before him.

Morrigan nuzzled against Aedan. "It's okay...I'll say it for you then." Aedan's hair ruffled up against her face and she took a long breath in. Morrigan shut her eyes and Aedan's heartbeat thumped against her arm. Her head rested next to his. "Welcome home."

Aedan nodded through his tears and hugged his family tight.

* * *

**END**

* * *

 


End file.
